..«»;^ 


?^.r. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


mm 

^  m 


25 

12.2 

m 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporalion 


4s- 


^ 


\ 


:\ 


4 


33  Wnr  MAIN  STRUT 

WnSTH.N.Y.  14SM 

(716)I73-4S03 


6^ 


V 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/iCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Histoiicai  ly^icroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microraproductiona  liittoriquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 
D 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag6e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculie 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  inic  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  blacit)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^^e^ 
iors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6x6  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  Ati  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-deesous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


This  item  Is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  f\\n\6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu4  ci-dessous. 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  d^color^es.  tachetAes  ou  piquies 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachies 

Showthroughy 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualiti  inigale  de  I'impress^on 

Includes  supplementary  materit 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponibie 


I      I  Pages  damaged/ 

I      I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~71  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

r~7|  Showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

r~n  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I      I  Only  edition  available/ 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  posi>^;ble  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc..  ont  Ati  filmies  6  nouveau  de  fapon  6 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 

16X 

aox 

24X 

28X 

32X 

The  copy 
to  the  ge 


The  imag 
possible  ( 
of  the  ori 
filming  c( 


Original  < 
beginnini 
the  last  p 
sion.  or  t 
other  orif 
first  paga 
sion.  and 
or  illuatri 


The  last  i 
shall  con 
TINUEO" 
whiehev« 

Maps,  pli 
different 
entirely  ii 
beginnin( 
right  and 
required, 
method: 


lira 

details 
las  du 
modifiar 
)ar  una 
filmaga 


Tha  copy  filmad  hara  haa  baan  raproducad  thanka 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

University  of  Alberta 
Edmonton 

Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
poaaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacif icationa. 


Original  copiaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
aion,  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraaaion. 


das 


L'axamplaira  filmt  fut  raproduit  grAca  A  la 
gAntroaiti  da: 

University  of  Alberta 
Edmonton 

Laa  imagaa  suivantas  ont  iti  raproduitaa  avac  la 
plua  grand  soin,  compta  -:anu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformiti  avac  laa  conditiona  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprimte  sont  filmte  en  commandant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'iiluatration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  aalon  la  caa.  Toua  laa  autraa  axamplairaa 
originaux  sont  filmte  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'iiluatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  ^aila 
amprainta. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  aymbol  ^^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED ").  or  tha  aymbol  ▼  (maaning  "END  "). 
whiehavar  appliaa. 


Un  daa  aymbolaa  suivanta  apparaltra  sur  la 
darniAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha.  salon  la 
caa:  la  symbola  -^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
symbola  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 


ra 


Mapa,  plataa.  charta,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  ti^ 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartaa.  pianchas.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  Atra 
filmte  A  daa  taux  da  rMuction  diffArants. 
Loraqua  la  documant  aat  trop  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  cliche,  il  aat  filmA  d  partir 
da  I'angla  sup^riaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  A  droita, 
at  da  haut  »n  baa.  wn  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nicaaaaira.  Laa  diagrammas  suivants 
llluatrant  la  mAthoda. 


y  errata 
td  to 

nt 

16  pelure, 


n 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

¥t 


"The  Moat  Drifts  Away." 

Sie  p.  II.:. 


i:liv^ 


i 


1/IeadowKurst      fKildrea 


f^'- 


'#' 


BY 


1:1.1 


.•.AN(.K  l.rSlKt  R     M.v   NMliHT.lN 


M 


iMSllNNATI.  OIIIO: 

TllK   KDITOU   I'lr.lJ-lllN''   »  O. 

iNllS. 


I 


(Ol'YRKlHTKP 

The  Editok  PrBusiiiNc  company 


) 


1 


) 


MHADOWHrRvST    CHILDREN 

-AND- 
OTIIHR    TALKS. 


i 


CONTENTS 


r)ur  Play 

Our  Picnic 

Our  Bazaar 

Our  Surprise 

Our  Wedding 

Our  llei'oino 

Our  Heroine 

Our  HirUidav 

Our  Summer  Visitors 

The  Children's  Hock 

The  Children's  Uock    - 


(PART  FfHST). 
(t'ART  SECOND). 


(rAKT  FIRST). 
(I'AKT  SKCONP.) 


FOli   VERY   LITTLR  ONES. 


Moonbeam  and  Topgy 

Where  Tlioy  Found  The  Kittens 

A  Sr  iw  Story 

King  l{ru(  •  On  the  Harn 

A  Very  Kind  Cat 


1 

() 
17 
28 
43 
57 
68 

7r 

91 
104 
114 


125 

i;),'! 

HI 

i4i; 

14!» 


PREFACE. 


f 


'if 


In  view  of  the  abundant  proviHJon  apparently 
made  for  the  literary  needs  of  the  little  oneg  of 
today,  the  stateme'^f  that  there  is  a  real  lack  of 
suitable  stories  for  children  may,  to  many,  seem 
surprising;  yet  I  believe  that  those  to  whom  a 
constant  supply  of  stories  of  the  right  kind  is  a 
necessity  will  not  dispute  its  correctness. 

The  ideal  child's  story  should,  I  have  thought, 
be  couched  in  such  language  as  to  make  the 
constant  interpretation  of  elders  unnecessary  ;  it 
should  be  lively  and  interesting,  yet  free  from 
sensationalism  or  wildly  improbable  incidents; 
it  should  help  to  kind  and  noble  living  without 
being  oppressively  "goody  goody,''  or  the  vehicle 
of  narrow  sectarian  teaching.  Furthermore,  it 
should  not  be  filled  with  the  remarks  and  re- 
flections of  grown  people, but  8h(>uld  truly  mirror 
the  life  of  children,  not  depicting  them  as  being 
the  suns  and  centres  of  existence,  but  as  happily 
occupying  the  natural  position  of  loving  depend- 
ence on  and  submission  to  their  elders.  It  should 
not  glorify  mischief,  present  morbid  conditions 


Prefftce. 

of  mind,  or  contain  anything  terrifying  to  the 
childish  imagination,  or  harrowing  to  childish 
feeling. 

The  ditliculty  of  finding,  in  sufficient  numbers, 
stories  fulfilling  the  above  requirements,  led  to 
mj'  writing  those  which  1  now  offer  to  the  public. 
That  I  have  fallen  short  of  my  ideal  I  am  deeply 
conscious,  yet  I  hope  they  may  be  found  to  con- 
tain some  of  the  virtues  positive  and  negative 
above  indicated,  and  thus  make  good  their 
raixon  iVetre.  1  venture  to  hope  also,  that 
constant  association  with  children  during  a 
fairly  long  life,  has  given  me  a  knowledge  of 
their  needs  and  likings  that  will  make  my  work 
find  favor  with  them.  If  it  shall  prove  that  I 
have  really  added  something  to  the  innocent 
happiness  of  the  little  ones  into  whose  hands  my 
book  may  fall,  then  indeed  I  shall  feel  that  my 
labor  has  not  been  in  vain. 


"tmirmmmimm 


the 

;.< 

dish 

'1 

sers, 

d  to 

blic. 

eply 

con- 
itive 
uheir 

that 

s 

1 

ig   a 
e  of 

i 

vork 

■I 

at  I 

'':'; 

cent 

■3 

i  my 

1 

my 

i 

M[liDOWHURST  CHILDREN  AND  OTHER  TALES. 


OUR  PLAY. 


It  was  "The  Babes  in  the  Wood,"  and  Peggy 
lirown  and  I  got  it  up  because  we  wanted  to 
earn  money  to  buy  Annie  Dermot  a  pres(Mit. 
She  is  nurse's  sister,  and  was  run  over  on  the 
street  two  months  ago  and  hurt  so  badly  that 
she  has  had  to  lie  on  her  back  ever  since,  and 
Dr.  (Jrant  says  it  will  be  a  long,  longtime  before 
she  is  able  to  walk  even  with  a  crutch. 

We  had  the  play  in  Peggy's  back  yard,  be- 
cause there  are  trees  there,  and  we  had  to  have 
a  forest,  and  besides  that  we  had  to  have  rufll- 
ans,  and  Peggy  has  two  big  brothers.  I  don't 
mean  that  they  are  ruttians — they  are  very  kind 
boys — but  they  were  able  to  lend  us  clothes  to 
dress  up  in,  and  they  showed  us  how  to  blacken 
our  faces  with  burnt  cork.  I  have  a  brother, 
too,  but  he  is  small,  so  small  that  he  wears 
frocks  and  sashes.  We  thought  he  would  do 
for  one  of  the   babes,  so  we  tried   him  one    day, 


Meadoichurst  Children, 


but  when  Peggy  and  I  began  to  fight  (we  were 
the  ruffians)  he  got  frightened  and  cried  so 
hard  that  nurse  came  and  took  him  in.  And 
that  night  he  waked  up  crying  and  saying  that 
there  were  "  bad  mans  in  de  yard,"  so  mother 
wouldn't  lend  him  to  us  any  more.  It  was  a  great 
pity,  for  it  was  very  hard  to  get  a  boy  babe. 
Little  boys  don't  like  to  act  anyway,  and  they 
hate  being  babes;  so  at  last  we  had  to  get 
Larry  Milligan,  the  milk-woman's  little  boy, 
and  he  isn't  the  least  bit  pretty.  He  has  red 
hair  and  grey  eyes  and  freckles,  but  he  was  very 
quick  at  acting,  and  did  just  what  we  told  him, 
and  in  one  way  he  made  a  very  pood  babe,  be- 
cause his  face  was  "  all  besmeared  and  dyed," 
though  not  with  blackberries,  but  really  molas- 
ses did  just  as  well. 

Christabel  Clarke  was  the  girl  babe  and  I 
just  w'-eih  you  could  have  seen  her.  She  is  the 
sweetest  little  pet,  with  shining  brown  curls, 
big  browr  eyes  and  the  cunningest  dimples. 
Jiut  we  couldn't  get  her  to  wear  a  dark  dress 
and  a  pinafore  like  little  Jane  in  the  picture. 
She  said  :  **  Me  mus'  wear  me's  bess  d'ess  to 
party.  '  So  we  had  to  let  her,  but  her  pretty 
embroidered  frock  and  red  yilk  sash  made  her 
look  so  different  from  Larry  in  his  raggety 
Bailor  euit.     Peggy  said  the  people   would  just 


'J 


\ 


i 


Our  Play. 


8 


have  to  think  that  the  wicked  uncle  liked  her 
better  than  the  boy  babe. 

Our  greatest  trouble  was  about  robins. 
When  first  we  thought  of  having  the  play,  we 
meant  to  catch  some  of  the  robins  that  come 
for  crumbs  every  morning,  and  teach  them  to 
cover  the  babes  with  leaves,  but  you  never  saw 
such  disobliging  birds.  Though  we  had  fed 
them  and  petted  them  all  summer  they  wouldn't 
let  us  touch  them,  so  we  had  to  give  that  up. 
Then  I  tried  to  teach  my  pigeons  to  act,  but  I 
do  think  that  pigeons  are  just  the  very  silliest 
things  in  the  world.  They  would  eat  all  the 
peas  we  chose  to  scatter  in  the  yard,  but  as  for 
even  looking  at  the  babes  or  the  dry  leaves, 
they  would  not  think  of  it.  And  when  Peggy 
and  I  were  nearly  crying,  they  would  put  their 
heads  on  one  side  and  seem  to  be  saying: 
•'What's  the  matter  now?"  So  we  gave  up 
trying  to  teach  them,  and  decided  to  have  the 
end  of  our  play  a  tableau.  So  after  the  ruffians 
fought  and  one  was  killed,  the  curtain  fell,  and 
when  it  rose  showed  the  poor  babes  lying  all 
covered  up  with  leaves;  and  just  to  show  that 
there  had  been  robins,  Peggy  stood  her  stuffed 
parrot  with  his  mouth  full  of  leaves  beside 
little  Christa's  head.  And  he  really  looked  a 
good  deal  like  a  robin  because  she  painted  his 
back  brown  and  his  breast  red. 


» 


1! 


'     'a 


■I 


Mcadowhurfit  Children . 


In  the  story  the  rullians  drive  to  the  wood 
with  the  babes,  but  we  only  had  Fred  Archer's 
express  cart,  and  it  would'nt  quite  hold  Larry 
and  Christa.  Their  legs  were  hanging  over  the 
sides,  which,  perhaps,  looked  a  little  funny, 
for  when  Peggy  and  I  came  driving  them 
through  the  trees,  everyone  laughed  and  shouted 
and  clapped  their  hands. 

I  think  that  Peggy  and  I  made  pretty  good 
rulHans.  She  wore  a  pair  of  muddy  football 
trousers,  a  black  peajacket  and  a  very  large 
straw  hat,  and  I  wore  long  black  trousers,  an 
old  brown  cape  coat,  and  a  beaver  hat  with  a 
broken  crown.  We  both  had  our  faces  black- 
ened, and  Peggy  wore  a  red  wig,  and  we  had 
pieces  of  wood  for  swords.  We  had  a  splendid 
fight,  and  the  boys  who  came  to  our  play  liked 
it  the  best  of  all.  Peggy  and  I  had  practiced 
it  ten  times,  and  still  we  were  nearly  frightened 
of  each  other,  we  made  such  fierce  faces ;  and 
when  at  last  I  fell  down  and  pretended  to  be 
dead,  and  the  curtain  fell,  the  clapping  must 
have  been  heard  in  the  next  street. 

We  charged  people  five  cents  to  come  to  our 
show,  and  Fred  Archer  stood  at  the  gate  and 
tooii  tiie  money,  and  when  we  counted  it  after- 
wards liiere  was  $1.80;  and  next  morning  we 
all  went  down  town  to  buy  the  present.  It 
took  us  a  long  time  to  choose  it,  because   every- 


> 


Ouf    Ploif.  5 

r»ne  wnnted  a  (liHLMent  thinjv.  Clirista  always 
wants  to  buy  dolls,  and  Larry  thought  all  the 
money  oujjht  to  be  spent  for  molasses  ean(l3^ 
He  said  that  w^is  what  he  would  like  if  he  were 
ill.  Fred  wanted  to  get  a  bird,  but  we  hadn't 
money  enough,  and  though  Peggy  and  I  both 
liked  a  shawl,  she  wanted  pink  and  I  wanted 
blue,  and  we  were  all  beginning  to  get  cross 
when  we  saw  just  the  loveliest  china  bowl  in  a 
shop  window.  It  pleased  us  all,  for  it  was  pink 
and  blue  and  had  a  bird  on  one  side  and  a  dear 
little  dolly  face  on  the  other,  and  it  only  cost 
$l.()i3,  so  there. was  money  enough  left  to  fill  it 
with  molasses  candy  and  to  buy  a  pea-sh(K)ter. 
It  was  Larry  who  would  buy  the  pea-shooter, 
and  after  all  Annie  liked  it  very  much,  for  when 
we  took  her  the  present  she  laughed  most  at  it, 
though  she  said  the  bowl  was  lovely  ar.d 
would  make  her  broth  taste  twice  as  good  as 
when  slie  had  it  in  a  tin  cup. 


(    ■!| 


\     \ 


«    fj 


i   ^ 


OUR  PICNIC. 


We  had  our  picnic  just  two  weeks  after  our 
play,  but  it  was  not  nearly  so  nice.  Peggy 
Brown  and  I  were  out  of  friends  for  more  than 
an  hour  afterwards,  and  we  didn't  spe;\k  to  Fred 
Archer  for  two  w^hole  days.  Peggy  and  I  got 
our  dre.sges  spoiled  and  Fred's  hat  blew  away, 
but  we  felt  worst  about  Christa,  for  she  ate  too 
much  candy  and  was  sick  all  night.  Mrs. 
Clarke  was  very  kind  about  it  and  said  she  was 
sure  that  Peggy  and  I  had  tried  to  take  care  of 
her,  but  her  old  nurse  was  very  angry  and  when 
we  went  to  ask  how  she  was,  scolded  us  till  we  both 
cried.  She  said  :  "Sure  and  'twill  be  a  month 
of  Sundays  before  ever  I  let  the  blessed  darlint 
go  wid  yez  again."  It  was  a  great  comfort 
that  nothing  happened  to  Larry,  but  perhaps 
that  was  because  nothing  can  happen  to  him. 
His  cloth  polo  cap  fits  so  tightly  over  his  red 
curls  that  it  can't  blow  away,  and  his  sailor  suit 
is  too  strong  to  tear  and  too  old  to  get  spoiled. 
He  never  wears  boots  or  stockings,  except  to 
church,  so  he  never  gets  his  feet  wet  or  takes 
cold,  and  nothing  that  he  eats  ever  makes  him 

6 


> 


Our  Picnic.  7 

sick.     I  think  that  Larry  is  a  very  happy  boy. 

Mother  says  that  perhaps  one  reason  why  the 
picnic  was  not  so  nice  as  the  play,  was  that 
when  we  had  the  play  we  were  thinking  of 
pleasing  some  one  else,  while  at  the  picnic  we 
only  wanted  to  please  ourselves,  and,  perhaps, 
that  was  some  of  the  reason ;  but  I  do  think 
that  if  Fred  had  not  wanted  to  go  up  the  pine 
tree  hill  there  would  not  have  been  any  trouble. 
Fred  says  the  trouble  would  never  have  begun 
if  Larry  hadn't  brought  that  jug;  but  I  think 
the  best  way  will  be  to  begin  at  the  beginning. 
Peggy  and  I  always  like  to  have  our  picnics  on 
the  beach.  There  are  such  lovely  shady  places 
there  among  the  trees  at  the  foot  of  the  clitf, 
and  there  are  big  flat  stones  that  do  for  tables, 
and  clam  shells  to  use  for  plates  and  dishes, 
and  a  stream  of  clear,  cold  water.  And  all 
summer  you  can  get  berries  of  some  kind  on  the 
beach;  the  blackberries  and  choke-cherries  were 
ripe  the  week  of  our  picnic. 

But  we  couldn't  get  Fred  to  go  to  the  beach 
this  lime.  He  said  that  it  was  too  stupid  to  go 
always  to  the  same  place,  that  he  meant  to  be 
an  explorer  when  he  was  a  man,  and  the  best 
way  to  begin  was  to  look  for  new  places  while 
he  was  a  boy.  We  didn't  know  what  explorers 
were,  but  Fred  said  they  were  men  that  went 
ahout    discovering    new    countries.      He    said 


I 


^i 


n  11 
1 1 


\ 


■  W 


I  '. 


8  Meathnrhvvst  C'hildreti. 

tlu'v  ruiind  kings  and  (|uecns  Htid  dwarfs  and 
giants  and  jungles,  and  icebergs  and  gorillas, 
and  told  us  siidi  lovely  stories  about  them  thit 
I'eg^y  and  I  agreed  to  begin  to  explore  at  onee ; 
and  we  askeil  Fred  where  he  would  like  to  go, 
and  he  said  we  nnght  begin  with  the  pine  tree 
liill.  The  pine  tree  hill  is  a  high  ridge  running 
behind  the  houses  on  the  village  street.  Right 
on  top  of  the  ridge  there  are  seven  beautiful  pine 
trees  and  the  top  of  the  middle  one  is  the  shape 
of  a  star.  None  of  us  had  ever  climbed  the  hill, 
but  the  pine  tr<^es  looked  so  lovely  standing 
against  the  sky  that  IVggy  and  I  often  longed 
to  go  up.  So  we  agreed  to  h'lve  our  pichie  up 
there  if  our  mothers  would  let  us,  and  we  lull 
asleep  that  night  thinking  what  fun  it  would  be 
to  explore. 

Mrs.  Brown  and  mother  said  ihat  they  thought 
we  would  not  like  the  pine  ireehill  as  well  as  the 
beach,  and  that  the  climb  would  tire  us  very 
much,  especially  Christa,  whom  we  had  promised 
to  take  with  us,  but  since  we  wished  it  so  very 
nnn-h  and  as  Fred  was  so  kind  and  careful  they 
would  let  us  go.  And  mother  said  that  as  L'lr- 
ry  had  been  so  good-natured  in  helping  with 
the  play,  we  might  ask  him,  too;  "Hut  Olive," 
she  said,  "  it  may  not  be  very  convenient  for  his 
mother,  who  is  so  luisy,  to  put  him  up  lunch, 
and  as  you  and  l*eggy  are  sure  to  have  plenty, 


\ 


\ 


Our  Picnic, 


\ 


tell  him  he  need  ik  t  hrinj^  anything,  and  per- 
haps it  will  he  nicer  to  tell  Fred  that  too.  If 
the  boys  curry  the  baskets  and  take  care  of  you 
and  Peggy,  and  dear  littic  Christa,  that  will  be 
enough  for  them."  When  we  told  this  to  Fred 
and  Larry,  Fred  said  that  even  though  I'eggy 
and  I  brought  lunch  he  would  like  to  bring  some 
fruit  and  candy.  Gentlemen  at  picnics  often 
brought  little  things  like  that,  he  said,  and 
Larry  said  he  would  like  to  bring  some  little 
thing,  too. 

We  agreed  to  meet  at  Fred's  house,  because 
it  is  the  nearest  to  the  hill,  and  at  two  o'clock  we 
were  all  ther  I'eggy  and  I  had  each  our  bas- 
kets, but  neither  of  us  knew  what  the  other  had 
brought,  because  we  wanted  to  be  surprised. 
Fred's  pockets  were  all  bulging  out  and  Christa 
had  a  box  of  chocolate  creams.  Larry  had  a 
big  brown  jiaper  parcel,  but  he  wouldn't  tell 
what  was  in  it.  It  looked  like  a  jug,  and  we 
thought  perhaps  Mrs.  Milligan  had  sent  some 
milk. 

I  think  we  looked  very  nice  when  we  set  out. 
Fred  walked  in  front,  carrying  both  baskets, 
and  Peggy  and  1,  with  Christa  between  us, 
cume  next,  and  then  Larry  with  liis  parcel. 
F-ed  W(U-e  his  new  stri[)ed  sailor  suit,  Peggy  and 
I  our  red  frocks  and  cicj.n  white  i)ina fores,    anil 


»  i^ 


II 


10 


Mr.C: ifo  whv  rs t  Ch  ildve n . 


Christa  was  dressed  in  white.  Larry  had  washed 
his  face  and  hands  very  clean. 

There  is  no  road  to  go  up  the  pine-tree  hill, 
only  in  one  or  two  places  a  narrow  footpath. 
The  best  one  is  behind  old  Miss  Primmer's  house, 
and  to  get  to  it  we  had  to  pass  through  her 
yard.  Peggy  and  I  went  to  her  front  door  first 
and  asked  very  politely,  telling  her  we  wanted 
to  go  up  and  explore,  and  she  said  we  might  go 
for  once,  but  there  was  nothing  that  she  hated 
more  than  a  pack  of  children  tramping  through 
her  place,  and  she  wondered  at  our  folks  letting 
us  go  off  on  such  a  wild-goose  chase.  This  made 
us  feel  very  uncomfortable,  and  we  hurried  out 
on  to  the  hill  as  fast  as  we  could.  "What  did 
she  mean,  Olive  ?  "  said  Peggy,  when  we  had 
walked  a  little  way  up  the  hill,  "We  never 
even  knew  that  there  were  any  wild  geese  on 
the  hill,  and  if  there  are  I  am  sure  that  we  won't 
chase  them."  "No,  indeed!"  said  I;  "for  I 
am  frightened  of  tame  geese;  they  have  such 
long  necks  and  angry  faces,  and  father  says  that 
when  he  was  a  little  boy  a  goose  chased  him 
and  bit  his  leg  so  hard  that  there  was  a  big 
bruise  on  it  for  more  than  a  week."  "Oh, 
Olive,"  said  Peggy,  "you  are  frightening 
Christa.     She  is  nearly  crying." 

"  Don't  cry,  Christa,"  said  Larry^.  "I  have 
my  pea-shooter,  and  if  we  meet  any  geese  you'll 


i 


jl 


\ 


Our  Picnic. 


IL 


soon  see  them  fly.  Look  here,"  and  Larry  put 
down  his  parcel,  took  his  pea-shooter  out  of  his 
pocket  and  sent  off  such  a  shower  of  peas  as 
might  have  frightened  a  whole  flock  of  geese. 
But  the  tears  w^ere  still  in  Christa's  eyes  as  she 
said,  "  Me  is  'fraid  of  de  wild  dooses,"  and  I 
think  she  would  reall}  have  cried  if  a  dear  little 
red  squirrel  had  not  been  met  at  that  moment 
running  right  across  our  path.  It  had  a  nut  in 
its  mouth,  and  Fred  said  he  likely  got  it  oflF  the 
hazel  trees  on  top  of  the  hiil ;  and  then  he  told 
us  some  funny  stories  about  squirrels,  and  we 
all  laughed,  and  Christa  forgot  about  the  geese. 
By  this  time  we  had  walked  a  long  way  up  the 
hill  and  were  all  beginning  to  feel  hot  and  tired. 
Larry  said  he  thought  the  pine  trees  must  be 
walking,  too,  for  they  looked  just  as  far  away 
as  ever.  "Don't  be  a  go—"  "Hush,  Fred," 
said  Peggy.  "A  sil^y,  I  mean,"  said  Fred; 
"  I  don't  think  you  need  be  tired  ;  you  are  not 
carrying  two  baskets." 

"  Let  me  help  you,  Fred,"  said  Peggy. 

"No,  the  boys  must  carry  the  baskets,"  said 
Fred,  "but  Larry  might  take  one  and  you  and 
Olive  take  turns  in  carrying  his  parcel." 

We  did  this,  but  Larry's  parcel  was  very  hard 
to  carry,  and  though  we  walked  and  walked  we 
hardly  seemed  to  get  any  nearer  the  top  of  the 
hill.     We  had  rested  once  or  twice  for  Christa, 


III 


12 


Meat/oii'hiii'af   C/uhfren. 


but  now  she  sat  down  and  paid,    "  '-  n't   do 

any  fiirzer."  Fred  gave  me  liis  basket  and  tried 
to  carry  her,  but  she  was  too  fat,  anil  after  a 
few  steps  he  had  to  put  her  dctwn. 

"We  are  all  tired,  Fred,"  said  I'eggj,  *' and 
1  think  we  had  better  not  go  any  further.  We 
have  been  out  a  long  time,  and  our  mothers  will 
be  anxious  if   we   are    late  getting  home." 

"What  do  you  want  us  to  do?"  said  Fred 
rather  ('rossl3^ 

"  Supposing  we  have  a  pienie  here,"  said  I. 
"Over  there  amongst  the  trees  the  ground  is  not 
very  steep  and  I  think  b}-  holding  on  to  them 
we  eould  manage  to  sit  down  without  slipping." 

"We  can  try,"  said  Fred.  "But  if  I  were 
alone  I  would  go  on  exploring,  and  next  time  I 
sluill  eome  alone." 

•'  Well,  you  may,"  said  Peggy,  "but  I  think 
3'ou  are  very  unkind  to  talk  that  way." 

"He's  hungry,"  said  Larry,  "and  that's 
what  m>kes  him  grumpy.  I  am  so  hungry 
myself  that  I  could  eat  a  loaf." 

"  I'm  not  hungry,''  said  Fred,  angrily,  "and 
if  I  were  I  wouldn't  mind  it.  F^xplorers  go  ever 
so  long  without  eating,  and  for  their  dinner 
they  only  liave  a  little  sea  biscuit  and  a  frozen 
pern  mi  can." 

"I  wont  Ix'  an  exi)lorer,  then,"  Miid  Larry. 
"  1  wouldn't  eat  a  frozen  |)('nny  ctin  for  any  one." 


I 


% 


Our  Picnic. 


18 


\ 


I 


"Here  we  are,"  said  Peggy.  "Yes,  Olive, 
I  believe  we  all  can  get  seats  under  these  trees, 
and  room  to  spread  our  cloth,  too.  Here, 
Christa,  pet,  sit  by  me  and  I'll  keep  you  from 
slipping,  and  now  I  think  we'll  open  the  bas- 
kets." 

I  was  carrying  Larry's  parcel,  but  I  gave  it 
to  him  and  took  my  basket,  and  Fred  set  Peg- 
gy's down  and  we  all  seated  ourselves  as  well  as 
we  could  where  we  could  hold  on  to  the  trees 
and  keep  from  slipping.  Larry  was  sitting  a 
little  above  the  rest  of  us,  and  he  propped  his 
parcel  up  against  a  tree.  It  was  too  funny 
when  Peggy  and  I  opened  our  baskets.  Mother 
had  said  that  Mrs.  Brown  baked  such  lovely 
cakes ;  she  was  sure  Peggy  would  bring  plenty, 
so  she  would  pack  bread  and  butter  and  ham 
sandwiches, a  pot  of  jam  for  me,  and  Peggy  hac 
just  exactly  the  same,  for  Mrs.  Brown  had  had 
a  sick  headache  the  day  before,  so  that  she 
could  not  bake.  "  Really,  Olive,"  said  Peggy, 
"you  might  have  told  me  that  you  weren't 
going  to  bring  any  cake." 

"Indeed,  Miss  Margaret  Brown,"  I  said, 
"who  was  it  said  we  were  to  surprise  each 
other?" 

"  But  I  didn't  want  such  a  mean  surprise," 
said  Peggy. 

"  l.)on't  quarrel,"  said  Fred.     "No  one  need 


'I 


14 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


grumble  over  such  a  good  lunch  as  this,  I'm  sure, 
eh,  Larry?"  and  he  handed  him  up  a  pile  of 
sandwiches. 

The  lunch  was  good  and  we  were  too  busy 
eating  for  a  few  minutes  to  care  to  talk;  then 
Fred  pulled  out  his  parcels  and  said:  "See 
what  I  have  brought;  it  will  do  for  dessert." 

There  was  a  bag  of  candies  and  one  of  nuts, 
and  six  big  bananas,  and  they  looked  lovely 
spread  out  on  the  towel  which  Peggy  and  I  had 
managed  to  spread  for  a  cloth. 

"  I  have  brought  something,  too,"  said  Larry, 
and  he  undid  his  parcel  and  took  out  a  jug 
which  he  tried  to  hand  to  Fred,  but  it  slipped 
and  before  it  could  be  stopped  rolled  down  right 
into  the  middle  of  our  lunch,  where  it  upset  and 
sent  a  stream  of  moiasses  all  over  everything. 
We  snatched  things  out  of  the  way  as  quickly 
as  we  could  but  it  was  no  use,  the  molasses  ran 
everywhere  and  we  only  got  it  all  over  ourselves. 
Fred's  new  suit  was  spattered  and  our  pretty 
frocks,  and  as  for  Christa,  she  was  daubed  all 
over.  Three  of  the  bananas  rolled  down  the 
hill  and  nearly  all  the  nuts. 

"Oh,  dear,  I'm  so  sorry,"  Larry  said,  and 
then  he  suddenly  got  red  in  the  face  and  his 
cheeks  puffed  out  like  a  trumpctei's.  I  tliouglit 
he  was  going  to  take  a  fit  but  he  suddenly  burst 
into  such  a  laugh  that  he  nearly  rolled  down  oii 


I 


*   • 


li 


\ 


H 


Our  Picnic. 


15 


us.      "Oh,  oh,   oh!"  he  said,    "he,   he,    he!  oh. 
Fred,  I  can't  help  it,  you  do  all  look  ho  funny." 

'*  You're  u  mean  little  rascal,"  shouted  Fred. 
"You  have  none  of  the  horrid  stuff  on  yourself 
and  you  dare  to  laugh  at  us  after  spoiling  our 
picnic." 

"You  shouldn't  scold  Larry,"  said  Peggy; 
"the  molasses  wouldn't  have  been  spilled  if  we 
hadn't  been  sitting  on  a  hill,  and  it  was  your 
fault  that  we  didn't  go  to  the  beach." 

"It  wasn't  my  fault  that  we  stuck  here 
instead  of  going  to  the  top  of  the  hill,"  said 
Fred ;  "  but  I'll  know  better  than  to  bring  a  pack 
of  babies  up  here  again,"  and  Fred  got  up  and 
walked  away. 

The  sky hadbeen  getting  verydark  for  some  time 
and  Peggy  thought  we  had  better  gather  up  our 
things.  Larry  helped  us,  but  everything  was  so 
sticky  that  it  was  very  disagreeable.  Bits  of 
moss  and  pine  needles  and  dried  leaves  stuck  to 
our  fingers  and  clothes  and  even  got  into  our 
hair,  and  our  things  kept  rolling  down  the  hill 
all  the  time.  We  had  just  finished  when  such  a 
wind  began  to  blow  that  we  could  hardly  keep 
on  our  feet,  and  some  big  drops  of  rain  fell 
through  the  trees.  We  jumped  up  in  a  hurry 
and  saw  Fred  running  down  the  hill  to  meet  us. 
He  had  been  up  to  the  top  and  found  nothing 
there    but   a    field    of  oats,    and  the    wind    had 


ji 

1:1.      ,; 


16 


Meadowhurst  ChUdi'en , 


whirled  away  his  hat  somewhere  into  the  very 
uiiciaie  of  them,  he  didn't  kncrw  where. 

We  ran  down  the  hill,  but  before  we  reached 
the  bottom  it  was  pouring  rain,  and  by  the  time 
we  got  home  we  were  soaked  through.  Christa 
is  well  now  and  we  have  made  up  friends  with 
Fred,  but  Peggy  and  I  have  made  up  our  minds 
that  we  will  never  have  any  more  picnics  to  the 
pine  tree  hill. 


^\ 


OUR  BAZAAR. 


I  think  we  would  never  have  had  our  hiizaar  if 
it  had  not  been  for  Larkie  Adams.  She  is  Freds 
cousin  and  eanie  to  stay  at  the  Archers  the 
week  after  w^e  had  our  picnic.  Her  real  name 
is  not  Larkie,  it  is  Isabel,  but  almost  as  soon  as 
she  could  speak  she  began  to  sing,  and  sang  so 
sweetly  that  her  father  used  to  call  her  his  little 
lark,  and  her  'name  soon  came  to  be  Larkii'. 
Peggy's  big  brother  John  said  it  was  a  good 
name  for  her,  because  she  was  so  fond  of  larks; 
and  I'eggy  and  I  said  we  would  be  too,  or.!}'  we 
could  never  find  an}'.  John  said  it  was  a  lark 
to  hear  us  talk,  and  I  thought  it  was  very  kiiul 
and  polite  of  him,  for  of  course  he  meant  that 
we  had  very  sweet  voices.  It  took  us  a  little 
while  to  get  accustomed  to  Larkie.  J  like  peo- 
ple that  look  like  Peggy,  and  she  likes  people 
that  look  like  me,  but  Larkie  was  not  the  least 
bit  like  cither  of  us.  Peggy  has  very  soft  yellow 
hair  waving  on  iicr  shoulders,  big  blue  eyes  and 
pink  cheeks,  and  1  have  dark  hair  phiitcd  in  a 
pig-tail,  and  brown  eyes.  Peggy  is  rather  short 
and  fat,    and  I  am    thin  and  a  little  taller,   but 

17 


18 


Meadotrhurst  Children. 


Larkie,  though  only  a  little  older,  was  so  big 
that  she  made  us  both  feel  small.  She  had  black 
eyes  and  freckles,  and  old  gold  hair.  At  first 
we  thought  her  hair  was  red,  but  mother  said  it 
was  better  to  call  it  golden,  and  that  she  had 
seen  an  old  gold  locket  just  that  color;  so  we 
came  to  think  it  pretty,  and  we  soon  came  to 
love  her,  too,  she  was  so  bright  and  merry,  and 
full  of  fun.  We  had  known  her  for  nearly  two 
days  before  we  told  her  about  our  picnic,  and 
then  she  laughed  so  much  that  she  nearly  fell 
out  of  the  apple  tree  in  Fred's  garden,  where  we 
were  all  sitting. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  I  safd ;  "we 
didn't  think  the  picnic  funny  at  all." 

"  Why  it  was  every  bit  funny,"  said  Larkie, 
"the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard  of.  Poor  Fred 
trying  to  carry  that  fat  lump  of  a  Christa,  and 
all  of  you  holding  on  to  trees  while  the  bananas 
rolled  down  the  hill,  and  then  Larry's  molasses. 
Why!  a  cat  would  have  laughed.  Oh,  dear!" 
and  Larkie  went  off  ngain,  and  this  time  she 
did  fall  out  of  the  tree,  but  the  ground  was  soft 
and  she  wasn't  a  bit  hurt,  and  in  a  minute  had 
scrambled  up  again.  "  I  only  wish  I  had  been 
here  for  the  picnic,"  she  said,  "  but  since  I 
wasn't,  could  we  not  have  something  while  I 
am  here?" 

"What  could  we  have?"  said  Peggy. 


Our  Bazaar. 


19 


"Why,  we  could  have — let  me  see — we  could 
have  a  bazaar." 

"A  bazaar?"  said  Peggy,  "why  we  could 
never  have  that.  At  bazaars  you  need  to  have 
cushions,  and  teacloths,  and  coseys,  and  all  sorts 
of  lovely  things,  and  Olive  and  I  have  no  money, 
and  can  make  iiothing  but  bags." 

"Well,  let  us  make  bags,"  said  Larkie.  "Let 
us  each  make  one  and  then  see  if  we  cannot  get 
something  to  fill  them.  I  shall  gather  cones.  I 
am  sure  lots  of  people  will  buy  them.  Mother 
always  likes  to  have  them  to  throw  on  the  grate 
fire  to  make  a  blaze  winter  evenings,  and  they 
are  used  for  fancy  work,  too." 

"  I  could  gather  acorns,"  said  Fred.  "I  read 
a  story  about  a  boy  that  made  a  portiere  out  of 
them,  and  sold  it  for  ever  so  much  money.  I 
can't  make  a  portiere,  but  I  shall  sell  mine  to 
some  boy  who  can.'' 

"I  shall  put  nuts  into  ray  bag,"  said  Larry, 
who  had  come  into  the  garden  and  was  lying  on 
the  grass  under  the  tree;  "people  always  like 
things  to  eat,  and  I  know  a  place  where  I  can 
get  bushels." 

"  What  shall  you  gather,  Peggy?"  I  said. 

"Immortelles,"  said  Peggy.  "Mrs.  Clark 
wants  enough  to  stulF  a  little  bed  for  Christa, 
and  perhaps  your  mother  would  like  to  make 
one  for  Basil" — Basil  is  my  baby  brother.      "And 


a 


•_>o 


3teadoii'hurst  Children. 


Olive,  you  nil^lit  gather  pine  and  balsam  fir  for 
pillows,  hut  what  canChrista  cloy  She  must 
have  a  little  bag,  too."  "  Suppose  she  gathered 
pretty  pebl)les,"  said  Larkie,  "and  1  could  buj'' 
them.  Mother  asked  me  to  bring  home  some 
for  a  little  lame  boy  that  she  goes  to  see,  and 
she  wants  a  bag  of  fine  sand  for  him,  too.  He 
likes  to  play  making  a  beach." 

• '  Has  he  ever  seen  a  real  beach?  "  asked  Larry. 

"No,"  said  Larkie.  "His  mother  is  very 
poor,  and  he  has  lived  all  his  life  in  a  dark  back 
street.  Last  spring  he  had  a  fever,  and  ever  since 
he  has  been  so  lame  that  he  can  only  walk  about 
a  little  with  a  crutch." 

"  Will  he  always  be  lame?"  said  Fred. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  will,"  said  Larkie,  and  the 
tears  came  into  her  eyes.  "The  doctor  says  he 
can  never  be  strong  again  unless  he  can  have 
plenty  of  good  food  and  fresh  air,  and  some  one  to 
take  really  good  care  of  him;  and  oh,  if  you  could 
only  see  the  close  little  room  he  lives  in,  and  a 
great  part  of  the  time  he  has  to  lie  all  alone, 
while  his  mother  goes  out  working.  Mother  has 
been  trying  •(>  get  him  sent  to  the  country,  but 
tiurc  are  so  many  poor  children  in  town  that 
she  has  not  l)een  able  to  get  the  money." 

'Let  us  give  him  all  the  money  we  make  l)y 
the  baziiar,"  saiil  I'^rcd.  "and  then  he  can  <*onje 
and  live  hcrt'." 


Our  Jiazaar. 


21 


"Oh,  that  would  be  beautiful,"  said  liarkie, 
"would  you  really  all  like  it?'' 

"Yes  indeed  we  would,"  we  all  said,  and 
Peggy  added:  "  We  had  better  begin  the  l»ags 
now." 

"Yes,"  said  Larkie,  jumping  out  of  the  tree, 
"  I  shall  go  right  in  and  ask  auntie  for  some 
pieces." 

So  Larkie  vrent  in  and  in  a  few  minutes  came 
out  with  thread  and  needles,  and  a  bundle  of 
pieces  of  pretty  colored  cotton.  "These  are  to 
make  little  bags,"  she  said.  "Auntie  said  that 
she  would  like  to  help  us,  and  would  make  us 
each  a  big  bag  of  strong  cotton  on  the  sewing 
machine." 

"Where  shall  we  have  the  bazaar?"  said  Fred, 
when  we  were  all  busy  sew  ing. 

"On  the  beach,"  said  Peggy,  "there  are  such 
nice  flat  stones  for  tables." 

"No,"  said  I,  "there  are  nice  Hat  stones  here 
and  there, but  we  siiould  want  a  lot  all  together; 
real  tables  would  be  bettet'." 

"In  Peggy's  yard,"  said  Lai-ry;  "the  jilay 
was  so  nice  there." 

"  And  su|)j)ose  it  rains,"  said  Larkie,  "all  our 
things  would  be  sjioiled.  I  think  we  (Uight  to 
have  it  indoors." 

"  Would  our  parhu"  do?"  I  said;  "I  am  sure 
niother  woulil  h't  us  have  it  there." 


!ii 


22 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


"Too  fine,"  said  Fred;  "our  mosses  and  cones 
and  stuff  would  not  look  nice  on  fancy  tables 
mixed  up  with  fal-de-rols.  I  think  the  best  place 
would  be  in  our  new  barn." 

"Why,  of  course  it  would,"  said  Larkie,  clap- 
ping her  hands ;  "I  wonder  we  did  not  think  of 
that  at  once.  The  barn  is  new  and  clean  and 
the  new  hay  piled  up  in  the  loft  smells  so  sweet. 
It  will  be  a  splendid  place,  and  we  can  dress  it 
up  with  greens.  And  now  what  shall  we  call 
the  bazaar?" 

"The  Pine  Tree  bazaar,"  said  Larry. 

"No,"  said  Fred,  "I  think  we  had  better  not 
call  it  the  Pine  Tree  anything.  Supposing  we  j  ust 
call  it  the  barn  bazaar;  that  is  good  and  plain." 

"But  it  is  not  pretty,"  said  Peggy;  "the barn 
is  a  lovely  place,  but  barn  bazaar  does  not  sound 
well.  We  ought  to  have  a  name  that  will  make 
people  think  of  outdoors,  where  all  the  lovely 
things  grow  that  we  are  going  to  sell." 

"Then  call  it  the  Outdoors  bazaar, "said  Larry. 

"  No,  we  cannot,"  said  I,  "for  it  will  be  in- 
doors. I  think  the  best  name  would  be  the  Fresh 
Air  bazaar." 

"Lovely!  lovely!"  said  Larkie;  "You  are  a 
dear,  Olive,  to  think  of  such  a  sweet  name." 

"We  couldn't  get  anything  better,"  said 
Peggy,  and  as  the  boys  liked  it,  too,  we  agreed 
that  that  would  be  the  name. 


I 


Onr  Bazaar 


n 


Our  new  bags  were  finished  now,  and  we  had 
to  go  to  our  homes,  but  the  next  day  and  for 
ten  days  after  we  spent  nearly  all  our  time  out- 
doors and  I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  lovely  things 
we  found  or  how  happy  we  were.  Larry  turned 
into  a  perfect  squirrel  for  finding  nuts.  When- 
ever we  met  him  every  pocket  seemed  to  be 
bulging  out  and  sometimes  he  was  carrying  his 
cap  full. 

Christa  and  Basil  used  to  go  to  the  beach  with 
their  nurse  and  Christa  filled  ever  so  many  bags 
with  pretty  little  stones  and  shells  that  she 
gathered  herself,  and  Basil,  who  is  not  three  years 
old,  sifted  sand  through  an  old  colander  till  he 
had  a  biscuit  box  full.  Fred  and  Larkie  gathered 
bushels  of  acorns  and  cones,  and  Peggy  and  I 
filled  everything  we  could  get  hold  of  with  im- 
mortelles and  pine  needles  and  balsam  fir  tips. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  bazaar  came  and  I 
could  never  tell  you  how  pretty  the  barn  looked. 
John  and  Alfred,  Peggy's  brothers,  had  helped 
Fred  to  decorate  it,  and  the  walls  were  nearly 
all  covered  with  green  branches  mixed  with  red 
berries  and  leaves  and  big  bunches  of  asters  and 
golden  rod.  Larkie  and  I  had  our  table  at  one 
end.  It  was  covered  with  a  red  cloth  and  the 
little  cone  frames  and  baskets  and  boxes  that 
Mrs  Clarke  had  taught  Larkie  to  make,  looked 
very  pretty  lying  on  it,  and  so  did  my  big  trays 


L'l 


MciKloii'hiir.sf   ('hi /(I re II. 


of  pine  and  balsam.  In  front  of  llic  table  we  had 
strings  of  cones,  hi^-  and  little,  hanging  f roi  i 
one  of  the  beams  of  the  barn,  be^ides  two  big 
hanging  l»askets  filled  with  wintergreen,  twin- 
llower  and  other  lovely  woodsy  vint  s  and  plants. 
John  made  the  baskets  for  us  out  of  twigs  and 
Alfred  Idled  them.  I  had  some  bunehes  of  yel- 
low and  white  sweet  clover  too,  and  I^arkie  had 
a  big  basket  of  milkweed  pods. 

Fred  and  Larry  had  the  otiier  end  of  the  barn 
and  the}^  had  all  sorts  of  things  besides  acorns 
and  nuts.  They  had  wasps'  nests  and  twisted 
sticks,  and  eat-tails  and  empty  birds'  nests, 
and  a  snake  skin,  and  some  funny  things  olf 
trees,  ihat  John  called  fungi. 

Peggy's  table  was  just  opposite  the  do<u-  and 
I  think  it  was  the  prettiest.  She  heaped  up 
immortelles  all  ovi-r  it  till  it  looked  like  a  bed 
and  piled  them  higher  at  one  end  for  a  pillow. 
She  had  wreaths  aiul  bouquets  of  imm<u'telles, 
too,  and  some  baskets  of  green  and  grey  nn)ss, 
besides  pots  of  ferns,  liasil  aiul  Christa  had 
their  table  in  the  middle  of  the  barn  and  they 
were  very  i)r(Uid  of  it.  They  had  a  lu'ight  tin 
cup  to  measure  their  s.uul  with,  and  their  shells 
and  pel)bles  looked  very  pretty  spi-ead  out  on  a 
blue  cloth. 

1  think  r\ery<)ne  in  the  village  came  to  tiie 
bazaar,    and    it  was    just    wonderful    how    they 


I 


i>nr   linzani' 


25 


wanted  our  thinj^K.  Sonic  ladies  staying  at  the 
hotel  bought  all  my  gum  and  l)alsam,  and  said 
they  would  have  liked  more.  And  Peggy 
could  hard'y  keep  enough  inunortelles  for 
("hrista's  bed.  Though  Larkie  had  a  barrel 
full  of  eones,  she  sold  them  all  and  had  to  eut 
down  her  strings.  Mrs.  Clarke  bought  both 
the  hanging  baskets  and  Peggy's  pots  of  ferns, 
and  Mrs.  Hrown  and  mother  took  all  my  sweet 
elover.  Fred  and  Larry  had  a  crowd  of  boys 
round  their  table  all  the  time,  and  when  they 
cleared  away  a  little,  there  was  not  a  nut  left.  Far- 
mer F'laxman  bought  Fred's  acorns  and  father 
gave  him  $2  for  his  fungi.  We  were  so  sur- 
prised, for  we  laughed  at  Fred  for  thinking 
an^'one  would  buy  them,  but  father  said  that 
they  were  very  fine  specinu'Us,  and  that  a 
friend  of  his  who  was  making  a  collection 
would  be  glad  to  give  that  mucii  for  them. 

Miss  Primmer  was  tie  first  person  who  bought 
nn3"thing  from  IJasil  and  (  hrista.  She  has  ten 
canaries,  and  when  she  saw  Basil's  nice,  clean 
sand  she  said  she  must  have  a  l)ucketful  to 
keep  for  their  cages,  and  it  was  so  pretty  to  see 
Basil  measuring  it.  She  gave  him  a  cent  for 
each  cupful,  and  when  he  had  fuiished  and 
said:  "Now,  you's  dot  loss  of  sand,"  she  sud- 
denly kissed  him.  He  pulled  her  dress  and 
said:  ''Muss    tiss    Cissa,    too,"  and    she    kissed 


26 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


her  and  bought  five  cents'  worth  of  shells. 
Everybody  was  so  surprised,  for  no  one  thought 
that  Miss  Primmer  cared  a  bit  for  children. 

When  the  bazaar  was  over  and  John  counted 
the  money  we  had  $13,  and  Mrs.  Archer  said 
that  would  be  enough  to  bring  little  Hugh  to 
Meadowhurst  and  pay  his  board  for  a  month ; 
and  Larry's  mother,  who  used  to  be  a  nurse 
and  knows  everything  about  sick  people,  said 
she  could  let  him  have  her  spare  room.  So  two 
or  three  days  later  Larkie's  father  came  out 
from  town  and  brought  a  thin,  white,  weak 
little  boy  with  him.  Mrs.  Archer  took  him 
to  Mrs.  Milligan's.  He  was  so  tired  that  after 
drinking  some  fresh,  new  milk  he  had  to  go 
right  to  bed,  and  for  two  days  he  slept  nearly 
all  the  time.  It  made  us  think  he  was  very  ill, 
but  Mrs.  Milligan  said  it  was  the  best  thing  for 
him,  and  whenever  he  was  awake  she  brought 
him  somethi^ng  good  to  eat.  The  third  day  he 
was  able  to  sit  in  an  easy  chair  under  the  big 
butternut  tree  and  look  at  Larry  turning  somer- 
saults and  standing  on  his  head ;  and  after  th:it 
he  walked  about  a  little  every  day.  At  the  end 
of  a  week  his  cheeks  were  pink,  like  Peggy's, 
and  he  was  able  to  play  with  Lurry's  pea-shoot- 
ers ,  and  two  weeks  later,  when  Larkie's  father 
came  to  take  her  home,  he  did  not  know  Hugh, 
he  was  so  fat  and  rosy. 


1 
( 

V 

i 
t 
n 
a 
t( 


Our  Bazaar. 


27 


The  next  week  was  to  be  his  last,  and  we 
were  all  feeling  very  sorry  about  it  for  we  had 
grown  so  fond  of  him ;  and  besides,  though  so 
much  stronger,  he  was  still  lame,  and  Dr.  Clarke, 
Christa's  father,  said  that  to  be  really  cured  he 
would  need  to  stay  in  the  country  and  have 
good  care  for  a  year.  So  we  were  all  wonder- 
ing what  could  be  done  about  it  when  some- 
thing just  wonderful  happened  so  that  he  did 
not  go  after  all ;  but  this  story  is  so  long 
already  that  I  must  wait  till  another  time 
to  tell  you  all  about  it. 


hi 


OUR  SURPRISE. 


IN'^^y  ;ind  I  wcro  very  lonely  after  L:irkio 
went  lioine,  but  we  would  have  missed  lier  more 
it"  it  had  not  been  for  little  lame  Huf^h.  He  was 
sueh  a  pet  that  we  all  loved  him,  and  it  was  so 
nice  to  see  him  getting  stronger  and  rosier  every 
day.  I't'ggy  faid  it  reminded  her  of  liow  we 
used  to  play  • '  lost  ehild  "  when  we  were  <]uite 
small.  We  used  to  get  tired  of  prett}',  well- 
dressed,  comfortable  dolls,  and  then  we  would 
take  old  china  Mary  Ann  and  put  on  a  dirty, 
torn  dress,  and  leave  her  out  in  the  cherry 
orchard  for  a  little  while,  and  then  pretend  to  be 
very  much  surprised  when  we  found  a  poor  lost 
child  lying  in  the  grass.  We  used  to  pick  up 
the  darling  and  carry  her  home,  and  while  I 
washed  her  face  and  hands  and  warmed 
her  toes,  Peggy  used  to  make  her  carrot  soup 
out  of  orange  peel  and  water.  After  a  while  we 
used  to  say  that  the  poor  dear  seemed  to  be 
feeling  a  little  easier,  and  at  the  end  oi'  a  week, 
when  we  had  painted  her  cheeks  and  put  new- 
stiffening  in  her  body  and  dressed  her  up, 
and  she   had  taken   all   the    medicine    Fred   had 

2b 


Onr  Sut'pri.'^c. 


^0 


brought  her,  we  used  to  be  so  proud  to  see  her 
h>oking  fat  and  rosy  again.  But  with  Hugh  we 
did  not  need  to  pretend.  His  cheeks  did  grow 
red  and  he  was  really  able  to  enjoy  the  nice 
broth  Mrs.  Milligan  made  for  him.  He  was 
quite  a  clever  little  boy,  too.  We  were  so  sur- 
prised to  find  that  he  could  read,  for  he  was 
only  six  and  had  never  been  to  school,  but  he  said 
that  Larkie  had  taught  him.  We  thought  it  so 
sweet  of  her,  for  at  home  she  goes  to  school  and 
has  hard  lessons  to  study,  and  very  little  time 
for  play.  Hugh  said  she  used  to  come  and  sing 
to  him,  too,  when  he  had  to  stay  in  bed  all  the 
time,  and  that  it  used  to  make  his  puin  go  away. 
Mrs.  Milligan  tried  to  keep  Hugh  outdoors 
nearly  all  the  time,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  strong 
enough  she  used  to  let  him  drive  around  with  her 
in  the  milk  cart,  and  soon  all  the  village  people 
came  to  know  him.  Everyone  took  a  fancy  to 
him,  even  old  Miss  Primmer.  She  used  to  give 
him  little  bunches  of  marigolds  and  sweet  peas 
out  of  her  garden,  and  one  day  when  he  seemed 
tired  she  asked  Mrs.  Milligan  to  let  him  come  in 
and  lie  down  and  she  would  bring  him  home 
herself  after  dinner.  We  were  really  frightened 
when  we  heard  of  it,  for  one  day  she  boxed  poor 
Larry's  ears  just  because  he  climbed  upon  her 
fence  to  see  if  his  ball  was  in  her  garden;  at 
least  he  only  meant  to  look,  and  it  was  not   his 


W 


30 


Meadowhurst  Children, 


h 


fault  that  he  fell  over  on  her  strawberry  bed  or 
that  Tansy,  her  big  Tom-cat,  was  sleeping  there. 
I  am  sure  it  was  the  terrible  meow-ow  that 
Tansy  gave  that  brought  Miss  Primmer  flying  out 
of  the  house.  But  Hugh  said  he  had  had  a  splen- 
did time.  Miss  Primmer  told  him  lovely  stories, 
while  he  lay  on  the  sofa,  about  a  little  boy 
that  wanted  to  be  an  explorer  like  Fred;  and 
when  he  was  rqstcd  she  took  him  into  the  garden 
and  showed  him  her  beautiful  Royal  Rose  apple 
tree,  all  loaded  with  fruit,  pink  on  one  side  and 
pale  gold  on  the  other.  No  one  else  in  Meadow- 
hurst has  an  apple  tree  like  it,  and  the  greatest 
favor  Miss  Primmer  can  do  anyone  is  to.  sell 
them  a  dozen  of  her  apples.  She  generally 
sends  them  all  to  the  city,  but  before  they  are 
gathered  the  tree  is  one  of  the  sights  of  the 
village. 

'*  I  wonder  what  made  her  be  so  kind  to  you," 
said  Larry.  "I  don't  know,"  said  Hugh, 
"except  that  I  have  the  same  name  as  the  little 
boy  she  told  me  about.  I  expect  he  was  her 
little  brother,  and  I  think  that  perhaps  I  look 
like  him.  She  looked  at  me  a  great  deal  and 
once  when  she  thought  I  was  asleep,  she  said, 
'  No,  I  am  not  mistaken,  there  is  a  likeness,' 
and  then,"  said  Hugh,  *'  of  course  I  opened  my 
eyes  right  oti'  and  did  not  hear  any  more." 

From  that  day  Miss  Primmer  and  Hugh  were 


I  k 


Our  Surprise. 


31 


great  friends.  She  used  to  send  him  cookies 
and  new  laid  eggs  and  cunning  little  saucer 
pies,  and  at  last  just  the  day  before  he  was  to 
go  home,  she  brought  him  down  herself  a  bas- 
ketful of  Royal  Rose  apples.  We  could  hardly 
believe  it,  when  Larry  came  running  ov3r  to  tell 
us  ani  to  ask  us  to  come  to  an  apple  feast  under 
the  butternut  tree,  but,  of  course,  we  went 
over  and  found  Hugh  sitting  at  th  head  of  a 
table  that  Mrs.  Milligan  had  brought  out,  and 
put  under  the  tree. 

There  was  a  pile  of  Royal  Roses  in  the  middle 
of  the  table,  a  pitcher  of  rich  new  milk  at  one 
end  and  a  plate  of  bread  and  butter  at  the  other 
and  a  blue  mug  and  plate  at  each  place.  Little 
Hugh  was  smiling  all  over.  "Isn't  Miss  Prim- 
mer kind?"  he  said.  "Wasn't  she  good  to 
send  us  these  apples?"  "  She  sent  them  to  you," 
Peggy  said,  "  and  perhaps  she  won't  like  us  to 
eat  them."  Hugh  looked  puzzled,  for  he  never 
can  understand  anything  being  only  for  himself, 
but  he  looked  happy  again  when  Mrs.  Milligan 
said,  "  She  sent  them  to  make  Hughie  happy,  and 
what  he  likes  best  is  to  share  with  his  friends." 

We  were  in  the  middle  of  our  feast  and  were 
listening  to  a  wonderful  story  that  Fred  was 
telling  us,  al)out  a  real  sailor  whom  he  had  met 
on  the  beach  that  morning,  when  the  garden 
gate  opened,    and  a  man  whom  we  had  never 


\    r 


i  n 


32 


^^ra(fotrfll(rsf   Children. 


seen  before  caiiie  up  the  garden  path.  "Why, 
here  he  is;"  said  Fred,  and  getting  up  he  said, 
"did  you  wish  to  speak  to  anyone,  sir?" 
"Ah!"  said  the  man,  "so  this  is  my  little  friend 
again.  Yes,  I  am  tired  and  thirsty  and  was 
told  that  the  good  woman  here  would  let  me  have 
a  glass  of  buttermilk.'"  "I  am  sure  she  will," 
said  Hugh,  "  please  sit  down,  while  Larry  goes 
in  to  ask  her;"  and  then  he  added  shyly,  "  we 
are  glad  to  have  you  at  our  party,  ^^r.  Sailor, 
won't  you  have  one  of  our  apples!" 

"I  shall  like  one  very  tnuch,"  said  the  man, 
"  I  have  not  seen  sueh  lovely  apples  since  I  was 
a  boy.  Do  they  taste  as  good  as  they  look?" 
''  You  bet  they  do,"  said  Larry,  who  had  come 
baek,  taking  a  great  bite  of  his.  "Just  taste 
one  yourself  and  see  if  you  don't  say  a  Hoyal 
Hose  is  worth  a  dozen  other  apples." 

"A  Royal  Hose!"  said  the  man,  giving  such 
a  start  that  he  nearly  spilled  his  buttermilk. 
"  Do  you  call  these  apples  Hoyal  Hoses?" 

"Yes,"  said  Larry,  "and  it's  not  a  bit  too 
good  a  name  for  them." 

"No  indeed,"  said  the  man  who  had  now 
tasted  his,  "but  it  sounded  strange  to  hear  that 
name,  because  as  far  as  1  know  it  is  not  the 
real  name  of  any  apple,  but  one  that  I  gave  my- 
self more  than  twenty  years  ago  to  the  apples 
that  ifrcw  in  a  certain  garvlen  that  I  thought  the 


Our  Surprise. 


33 


loveliest  place  in  the  world.  It  is  odd  that  these 
apples  that  look  and  taste  just  as  those  did, 
should  be  called  by  the  same  name.  I  should 
like  to  see  them  growing,  it  would  take  me  back 
to  my  boyhood.  If  the  tree  that  bears  these 
grows  anywhere  near  at  hand  I  should  be  much 
obliged  if  one  of  you  little  men  would  show  me 
the  way  to  it." 

"  There's  only  one  Royal  Rose  tree  in  the  vil- 
lage," said  Fred,  "  and  I  can  take  you  to  it  in 
five  minutes." 

"I  wish  I  could  show  you  the  way,"  said 
Hugh,  "  but  I  am  lame  and  take  so  long  to  go 
anywhere  that  it  tires  people." 

*'It  would  not  tire  me,"  said  the  man  looking 
very  kindly  at  Hugh.  "  But  it  is  better  for  you 
to  rest.  I  hope  though  that  we  shall  see  each  other 
again.  We  ought  to  be  good  friends,  for  I  hear 
them  call  you  by  my  name,  and  besides  you  look 
like  a  dear  friend  I  had  long  ago." 

He  walked  away  with  Fred,  and  Peggy  said, 
"What  a  nice,  kind  man;  but  how  odd  that 
Hugh  looks  like  his  friend  too.  He  seems  to  be 
like  a  good  many  people." 

"lam  glad  that  I  am,"  said  Hugh,  "it  is 
nice  to  remind  people  of  their  friends.  It  makes 
them  so  kind." 

Our  feast  was  over  and  we  were  gatliering  up 
the  plates  when  the  garden  gate  burst  open  and 


34 


Meadowhvrst  Children . 


Fred  came  dashing  up  the  walk  as  if  a  bull  were 
chasing  him.  "Mrs.  Milligan!"  he  shouted, 
"Mrs.  Milligan!  Will  you  go  to  Miss  Prim- 
mer's  right  oil'.  Something  is  the  matter  with 
her.  She  has  a  fit  or  has  fainted,  1  don't  know 
which,  and  there's  no  one  there  but  the  strange 


n 


man. 

Mrs.  Milligan  went  otf  without  waiting  to  say 
a  word,  and  when  Fred  got  his  breath  he  told 
us  that  when  he  and  the  man  reached  Miss  Prim- 
mer's  gate  the  man  said  he  would  go  to  the  door 
and  ask  if  he  might  buy  a  basketful  of  i^oyal 
Roses.  Miss  Primmer  opened  the  door  and 
when  she  saw  the  man  she  stared,  and  he  stared, 
and  then  the  man  said,  "Hannah!"  and  Miss 
Primmer  said,  "Hugh!"  and  then  she  nearly 
fell  down,  but  the  man  caught  her  and  carried 
her  in  to  the  sofa  and  told  Fred  to  run  for   help. 

We  heard  nothing  more  till  that  evening  when 
]Mrs.  Milligan  came  over  to  mother's  and  told  her 
a  strange  story. 

ivong,  long  ago  Miss  Primmer  was  young  and 
pretty  and  lived  on  a  farm  far  away  from 
Meadowhurst,  and  a  little  boy  called  Hugh  Ash- 
ley lived  near  her  and  played  with  her  just  as 
Fred  does  with  Peggy  and  me.  And  when  he 
was  big  he  wanted  to  marry  her,  but  her  mother 
WHS  dead,  and  her  father  and  little  blind  brother 
needed    her    so  much   that  she   couldn't    leave 


Our  Surprise. 


35 


them,  and  that  made  Mr.  Ashley  ungry,  and 
at  last  after  he  had  asked  her  a  great  many 
times  he  said  he  wovild  never  ask  her  any  more; 
and  he  left  home  to  be  a  sailor  and  Miss  Prim- 
mer never  heard  any  thing  about  him.  After 
more  than  a  year  her  father  died  and  the  farm 
was  sold  and  the  money  nearly  all  had 
to  go  to  pay  bills,  so  Miss  Primmer  went 
away  to  a  big  city  to  get  work  and 
took  nothing  with  her  from  the  farm  but  a 
Royal  Rose  tree  growing  in  a  pot;  and  she 
lived  in  many  different  places,  but  no  matter 
where  she  went  she  took  the  little  tree  with  her 
because  it  reminded  her  of  the  farm  and  the 
apple  feasts  that  she  and  Hugh  Ashley  used  to 
have.  By  and  by  her  little  brother  died  and 
she  went  to  keep  house  for  an  old  man  who  was 
very  cross  and  hard  to  please  while  he  lived, 
but  when  he  died  it  was  found  that  he  had  left 
Miss  Primmer  the  little  place  here  where  she  has 
lived  for  the  last  fifteen  years.  As  soon  as  she 
came,  she  planted  her  apple  tree  and  it  made 
her  think  of  Mr,  Ashley  every  day,  but  she 
always  thought  he  was  dead  and  that  she 
would  never  see  him  again.  So  when  Fred 
brought  him  up  that  af(erno»)n — the  8aih)r  was 
Mr.  Asbh\y — she  got  such  a  surprise  that  she 
fainted,  liut  when  Mrs.  Milligan  arrived,  she 
was  already  feeling  better,  and  Mr.  Ashley   was 


1 


i   1 


( 


36 


Meadowh'irst  Children. 


telling  her  his  adventures,  how  he  had  been  ship- 
wrecked, and  then  fallen  ill  in  a  strange  coun- 
try, and  how  when  at  last  he  got  home  and 
went  to  look  for  her  he  could  not  find  her  any- 
wiiere.  For  a  long  time  after  that  he  did  not 
care  for  anything  but  just  went  on  one  voyage 
after  another,  but  at  last  he  thought  he  would 
like  a  little  home  of  his  own,  and  in  the  town 
where  he  was  staying  then  he  got  married  and 
was  very  happy  with  hii  wife.  They  had  a 
dear  little  baby  boy,  and  when  he  was  a  year 
old  Captain  Ashley — for  he  had  got  to  be  captain- 
went  on  one  more  voyage,  but  before  he  re- 
turned home  a  dreadful  thing  had  happened. 
His  wife  had  come  with  him  to  the  port  from 
which  he  sailed  and  he  had  left  her  and  t:-.: 
baby  in  a  boarding  house  there  because  he 
thought  it  would  be  more  comfortable  for  her 
than  keeping  house  alone.  But  he  had  only 
been  gone  a  month  when  the  boarding  house 
was  burned  and  a  great  many  of  the  people 
in  it  were  burned  too.  Mrs.  Ashley  was  found 
in  her  bed,  not  burned,  but  the  smoke  had 
killed  her,  and  the  baby  was  not  with  her  and 
lie  wan  never  found  afterwards.  This  was  what 
Captain  Ashley  heard  when  he  got  home  two 
months  later,  and  it  nearly  killed  him.  He  was 
in  a  hospital  fgr  mcmths,  and  when  at  last  he 
came  out,    he  went  right  to  sea  again,    and  for 


' 


h 


Our  /Surprise. 


ar 


three  or  four  years  was  hardly  ever  on  hiiid. 
The  day  he  came  to  Meado'vhurst  he  was  on 
his  way  to  see  an  old  uncle  in  the  country  and 
by  mistake  got  off  the  train  at  the  wrong  sta- 
tion. 

You  may  think  how  excited  we  all  were  when 
we  heard  this,  but  a  greater  surprise  came  the 
next  morning.  Captain  Ashley  had  gone  to  Mrs. 
Milligan's  for  the  night  and  the  next  morning 
at  breakfast  he  was  telling  them  about  sailors 
and  how  they  tattoo  themselves,  and  Mrs.  Mil- 
ligan  told  him  about  the  old  tattoo  mark  on 
Hugh's  arm,  and  said  she  always  thought  his 
father  must  have  been  a  sailor. 

"Why, is  '~e  notyour  son  V"  said  Captain  Ash- 
ley. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Milligan,  and  she 
told  how  Hugh  came  from  the  city,  where  his 
mother  was  a  washerwoman.  '"She  is  not  my 
real  mother,"  said  Hugh.  "  When  I  was  so  ill 
last  spring  that  the  doctor  th(uight  I  would  die, 
and  1  felt  afraid,  she  told  me  that  I  had  a  dear 
angel  mother  in  heaven  who  would  know  me 
and  love  me  even  though  1  had  forgotten  her. 
She  said  (Jod  had  sent  me  to  her  when  I  was 
very  small,  and  sh  had  taught  me  to  call  her 
mother  and  given  me  her  name  because  she 
thought  I  would  be' happier." 

Captain  Ashley  began  to  tremble  all  over,    and 


\  ^ili 


^1 


38 


Jleadun'h ui'sl  Chiblren . 


asked  Mrs.  Milligan  to  let  him  see  thxC  tattoo 
mark.  So  she  took  otf  Hugh's  blouse  and  turned 
up  his  shirt  sleeve  and  showed  the  little  anchor 
on  the  inside  of  his  left  arm;  and  then  Ca|)tain 
Ashley  cried  out  loud  and  said  he  was  sure  that 
at  last  God  had  let  him  find  his  dear  little  son, 
for  he  had  made  just  such  a  mark  on  his  boy 
before  he  left  him  and  his  mother.  ''And 
when  I  did  it,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Milligan,  "I 
laughed  and  said  to  Milly,  '  It  will  not  be  easy 
to  lose  Ilughie  now.  There  is  not  another  man 
can  make  jiist  that  mark;  '  "  and  then  he  took 
Hugh  in  his  arms  again  and  hugged  him  as  if 
he  could  never  let  him  go,  and  it  was  at  that 
moment  that  Peggy  and  Fred  and  I  came  into 
Mrs.  Miiligan's  kitchen  with  some  little  keep- 
sakes that  we  had  brought  to  Hugh. 

Mrs.  Archer  telegraphed  toLarkie'  s  mother  and 
she  sent  Mrs.  Morrison,  the  woman  with  whom 
Hugh  had  lived,  out  by  the  afternoon  train,  and 
when  she  had  told  Hugh's  story  to  Captain  Ash- 
ley, there  could  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  his 
long  lost  little  boy.  She  had  been  engaged  to 
do  washing  at  the  boarding  house  just  two  or 
three  days  before  the  fire,  and  the  night  it 
broke  out  remembered  seeing  one  of  the  house- 
maids with  a  little  boy  in  her  arms.  She  said 
ills  mother  had  a  headache  and  she  was  going 
to  keep  him  for  the  night.     Mrs.    Morrison   and 


Our  Surprise. 


80 


her  two  little  girls  slept  in  the  next  room, 
and  they  and  a  lot  of  other  people  were  only 
saved  by  the  firemen  putting  up  a  ladder.  Her 
children  were  taken  down  first  and  when  she 
joined  them  they  had  the  little  baby  boy  be- 
tween them,  and  a  kind  woman  who  lived  near- 
by took  them  all  in  for  the  night. 

Next  day  and  for  a  great  many  days  she  tried 
to  find  some  one  belonging  to  Hugh,  but 
she  did  not  even  know  his  name.  The  people 
who  kept  the  boarding  house  said  that  they 
thought  he  was  Mrs.  Ashley's  little  boy,  but 
she  was  dead  and  they  knew  nothing  about  her 
relatives  or  where  her  husband  had  gone.  So 
the  good  kind  woman  kept  the  baby  herself  and 
did  the  best  she  could  for  it,  but  with  a  baby  it 
was  hard  to  get  work  and  her  husband  had 
been  dead  for  three  years.  She  heard  that  pay 
was  better  in  the  city  where  Lnrkie  lives,  so 
came  there  with  the  three  children  when  Hugh 
was  about  two  years  old,  lutshe  had  to  pay  so 
much  for  a  room  and  things  to  eat  that  she  got 
poorer  all  the  time,  and  when  Larkie's  mother 
foiinj  her  she  was  in  great  trouble.  Hugh  was 
ill  then  and  she  could  not  leave  him  to  work 
and  they  had  neither  food  nor  fire.  She  had 
taught  Hugh  to  call  her  mother,  and  even  3[rs. 
Adams  did  not  know  that  he  was  not  her  own 
little  boy.     She  had  always  kept  the  little  shirt 


40 


Me >t  dowh  u rs t  Ch ildre n . 


and  nightgown  that  Hugh  had  on  the  night  of 
the  fire,  and  they  were  both  marked  "H.  A." 
I  think  there  were  never  happier  people  in  the 
world  than  at  Meadowhurst  that  day.  Miss 
Primmer  was  happy  because  she  had  found 
Capinin  Asliley,  and  Hugh  was  happy  because 
he  had  found  his  father.  But  Captain  Ashley 
was  happiest  of  all  because  lie  had  found  both 
Miss  Primmer  and  Hugh.  He  s  lid  we  must 
have  a  celebration,  and  then  Larry  remembered 
that  it  was  Hallowe'en,  and  Mrs.  Milligan 
asked  us  all  to  come  over  after  tea  and  dip  for 
apples  and  pull  candy  in  her  big  kitchen. 

It  was  the  loveliest  Hallowe'en  party  that  we 
ever  went  to.  Our  mothers  and  fathers  came 
with  us,  and  Miss  Primmer  was  there  with 
Hugh  in  her  lap,  looking  so  kind  and  happy 
that  we  hardly  knew  her.  She  had  on  a  pretty 
dress,  and  her  eyes  looked  so  bright  and  her 
cheeks  so  pink  that  Peggy  and  I  thought  she 
looked  quite  pretty,  and  even  Larry  forgave 
her  when  he  heard  that  she  had  sent  down  half 
a  barrel  of  Royal  Roses.  Mrs.  Brown  brought 
over  a  basketful  of  the  little  cakes  that  she 
always  bakes  for  Hallowe'en,  and  Miss  Prim- 
mer got  the  one  with  a  ring  in  it.  Hugh  got 
the  sixpence  for  money,  and  Pc^gy  got  the 
thimble,    that  means  you  will   be   an   old  maid, 


[ 


4 


Our  Surprise. 


41 


but  Fred  told  her  not  to  mind  because  he  felt 
pretty  sure  that  he  would  marry  her  by-and-by. 

When  the  fun  was  over,  and  we  began  to  feel 
quiet,  Captain  Ashley  sang  us  some  splendid  sea 
songs,  and  then  he  made  a  little  speech  and 
said  he  wanted  to  thank  all  the  good  friends 
who  had  been  so  kind  to  his  dear  little  boy, 
especially  Mrs.  Morrison,  whom  he  could  never 
thank  enough.  He  said  he  meant  to  buy 
a  house  at  Meadow  hurst,  where  he  had 
found  so  much  happiness,  and  would  buy  a  lit- 
tle cottage  for  Mrs.  Morrison,  too,  so  that  she 
could  live  with  her  children  in  the  sweet  coun- 
try air  and  see  Hugh  every  day.  When  the 
speech  was  ended  we  all  clapped,  and  then  as 
Hugh  was  looking  tired,  and  ( 'hrista  and  Basil 
were  rubbing  their  eyes,  we  said  good-night  and 
walked  home  through  the  moonlight.  We 
were  very  quiet  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
Fred  said,  "  What  are  you  thinking  about, 
Olive?" 

"About  iiarkie,"  I  said,  "and  wishing  she 
could  have  been  here,  for  it  all  seemed  to  begin 
with  her.  If  she  had  never  come  to  Meadow- 
hurst  we  should  never  have  known  Hugii  nor 
had  any  of  these  lovely  surprii-es." 

"I  am  thinking  of  Larkle,  too,"  said  Peggy, 
"  and  of  how  happy  she  will  be  when  she  hears 
that  Hugh  has  found  his  dear  father.  And, Olive, " 


,  I 


42 


Meadotr/iui'st  Children. 


she  added  softly,  looking  up  at  the  sky  that 
seemed  so  far  above  us,  "  1  am  thinking,  too, 
of  the  dear  Father  of  us  all.  At  first  I  felt  sad 
about  Hugh's  mother,  but  when  I  think  of  how 
good  He  is,  and  what  lovely  surprises  he  can 
give  us  here,  1  think  that  perhaps  she  had  the 
most  splendid  one  of  all  when  He  took  her  to 
His  beau  tif  ul  home  to  live  forever  with  Himself. 


i 


I 


OUR  WEDDING. 


!i 


! 


There  is  just  one  month  that  Peggy  and  I  do 
not  like,  and  that  is  November.  Summer  and 
autumn  are  over,  and  winter  has  not  yet  come. 
There  are  no  flowers,  fruits  or  nuts  and  even  the 
pretty  leaves  are  nearly  all  whirled  away  and 
the  trees  look  so  sad  and  bare.  It  rains  so 
often  that  we  can  hardly  ever  play  outdoors,  or 
if  the  sun  does  shine  the  roads  are  sure  to  be 
muddy,  and  there  would  not  be  much  time  to 
play  anyway  for  the  days  are  so  short  and  we 
are  not  allowed  to  stay  out  after  dark,  Fred 
says  that  November  can't  help  being  that  kind 
of  a  montli  and  that  the  right  way  would  be  for 
people  to  plan  pleasant  things  for  it  instead  of 
having  them  all  in  the  other  months  that  don't 
need  them.  He  siys  that  he  means  to  have  all 
his  children's  birthdays  in  November  so  that  at 
least  there  will  be  plenty  of  parties  and  presents. 
Peggy  and  I  are  not  sure  whether  this  would  be 
a  good  plan  or  not  for  perhaps  the  children  might 
not  like  it  themselves,  so  we  have  not  decided 
about  it  yet.  Larkie  Adams,  who  spent  Novem- 
ber  once    with    her   Aunt  Isabel  in  the  United 


!l 


44 


Meadowhurst  Children, 


States  told  us  what  a  lovely  Thanksgiving  holiday 
they  had  there  in  November;  and  Peggy  and  I 
said  that  we  wished  they  would  keep  Thanks- 
giving that  way  here  instead  of  just  going  to 
church,  but  F'red  was  very  angry  with  us  and 
said  we  were  not  true  to  our  country  to  talk 
that  way  and  that  it  was  greedy  to  care  so  much 
about  pies  and  cakes.  It  was  not  the  pies  and 
cakes  though,  that  ^  'ggy  and  I  cared  about,  but 
the  wagon  loads  of  uncles  and  aunts  and  dear 
little  cousins  that  Larkie  told  us  about,  and  the 
fun  they  all  had  together.  Mother  says  we  can 
be  true  to  our  country  even  though  we  love 
others,  and  wish  to  copy  what  is  good  from 
them,  but  Fred  thinks  the  only  way  is  to  want 
to  fight  other  countries  ind  to  think  all  our 
own  ways  best.  I -Jt  i  was  going  to  tell  you 
that  the  November  after  tiie  Hallowe'en  party 
turnetl  out  to  be  one  oi  the  happ'est  months  of 
all  the  year.  The  vveathcr  kept  so  fine  that  it 
was  more  like  having  two  Octobers  and  Peggy 
and  I  had  lots  of  fun  playing  in  the  fallen  leaves. 
One  night  about  a  week  after  the  party  there 
was  a  high  wind  and  tiie  next  morning  they 
were  piled  so  high  on  the  sidewalk  that  thny 
almost  covered  our  boots,  and  after  we  had  fin- 
ished our  lessons  with  mother  we  went  out  to 
have  a  leaf  fight  before  dinner.  We  had  splendid 
fun  throwing  armfuls  of   leaves  at  each   other, 


Our   Wt'ddf'riff. 


45 


and  then  we  made  a  storm  by  throwing  old 
baskets  filled  with  leaves  high  ilp  into  the  air 
and  letting  them  shower  down  upon  us.  Then 
it  was  time  for  Peggy  to  go  home  and  she  asked 
tne  to  try  a  race  to  her  gate,  kicking  the  leaves 
all  the  way.  We  started  off  and  I  would  have 
won  the  race,  for  my  legs  are  longer  than  Peggy's 
and  I  can  kick  higher,  but  just  as  I  reached  her 
corner  Fred  came  dashing  round  and  we  ran  into 
each  other  and  both  fell  and  Peggy  too,  for  she 
was  so  close  behind  that  she  could  not  stop  her- 
self and  tumbled  right  over  us.  We  were  not  a 
bit  hurt  for  we  fell  into  a  bed  of  leaves  and  red 
pine  needles ;  but  I  was  angry  at  losing  the  race 
and  I  said,  "Really,  Fred,  you  ought  not  to  come 
dashing  round  corners  that  way  without  looking 
where  you  are  going.  " 

"Well,  that  is  good,"  said  Fred,  "I  just 
wish  you  could  have  seen  yourself,  Olive,  and  you 
wouldn't  talk  about  other  people  dashing." 

"Oh,  but  that  is  different,"  said  Peggy. 
"Olive  and  I  were  racing  and  had  to  dash." 

"No,  you  hadn't,"  said  Fred,  "for  girls  don't 
need  to  race  and  I  think  you  looked  very  indig- 
nified." 

"What  u  funny  word,  Fred,"  I  said.  "I  don't 
believe  it  is  a  right  one." 

"He  means  undignified,"  said  Peggy,  "and 
I  expect  we  did  look  cjueer," 


' 


<  ii 


I 


I     '•! 


46 


3feadowhurst  Children. 


"Yes,  and  you-  look  queer  now,"  said  Fred, 
"all  stuck  over  with  leaves  and  pine  needles, 
but  I  was  really  in  a  hurry,  for  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  some  news.  What  do  you  think !  Captain 
Ashley  and  Miss  Primmer  are  going  to  get  mar- 
ried." 

"Oh,  Fred,  how  lovely!"  said  Peggy.  "Olive 
and  I  have  never  seen  a  wedding.  There  has 
not  been  one  in  Meadowhurst  since  I  can  remem- 
ber, but  they  are  beautiful  for  I  have  read  about 
them.  Miss  Primmer  will  be  a  bride  and  have 
a  long,  trailing  white  gown  and  a  wreath  and  a 
veil,  but  are  you  sure  it  is  true?  Who  told  you 
about  it?" 

"Captain  Ashley,"  said  Fred;  "he  came  to  see 
father  last  night  and  told  him  all  about  it.  Miss 
Primmer  wanted  to  wait  till  next  summer,  but 
Captain  Ashley  said  they  had  waited  long  enough, 
and  besides  he  wants  to  get  a  home  for  little 
Hugh  at  once." 

"Where  are  they  going  to  live?"  said  I. 

"  In  town  for  about  a  month  after  the  wed- 
ding," said  Fred,  "because  Dr.  Clarke  wants 
Hugh  to  be  treated  by  a  very  great  doctor  who 
lives  there.  After  that  they  are  coming  back 
to  Meadowhurst,  and  will  live  in  Miss  Primmer's 
cottage  till  their  own  home  is  ready,  and  oh, 
Olive,  guess  where  that  is  to  he?  " 


' 


H 


Our    Weddirifj. 


47 


"  We  could  never  guess,"  said  Peggy,  "do 
tell  us,  Fred." 

"In  the  big  gray  stone  house  at  the  head  of 
the  hill,  just   past  Miss  Priinmer's,"  said    Fred. 

"  Why  that  is  the  haunted  house,"   said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  P'red,"  and  I  told  (iiptain  Ashley 
all  about  it  but  he  only  laughed.  lie  did  not 
believe  ghost  stories  at  all,  and  he  wants  a  house 
hear  the  cottage  so  that  the  H(>yal  Hose  tree  will 
still  be  in  their  garden,  which  will  reach  down  tar 
enough  to  take  in  Miss  I'rinimer's  orchard." 

"  And  will  nobody  live  in  her  cottage?  "  said 
I. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Fred,  "he  has  bought  that 
for  Mrs.  Morrison  so  that  she  can  be  near  Hugh 
and  see  him  as  often  as  she  likes,  but  it  will  te 
nearly  spring  before  his  own  house  is  ready,  so 
she  will   not  come  till  then." 

Just  then  we  heard  Peggy's  dinner  bell  ring- 
ing very  loud,  and  we  all  jumped  up  and  ran  off 
to  our  homes  as  quickly  as  we  could. 

1  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  tell  mother  the  news 
when  I  got  home,  but  she  had  heard  it  already,  and 
after  cMnner  she  went  to  see  Miss  Primmer  and 
did  not  come  back  till  after  the  lamps  'vere 
lighted.  She  looked  so  grave  then  that  I  said: 
"What  is  the  matter,  mother?  Has  anything 
hnpponed  to  trouble  you?  " 

"No,     indeed,     Olive,"    siie   said.     "I  have 


i 


II 


i    i 


48 


Mecidowhurst  Children. 


everything  to  make  me  happy,  but  T  have  been 
sitting  with  Miss  !^rinimv?r  most  of  the  afternoon 
and  she  has  been  telling  me  a  good  deal  about 
her  past  life,  and  there  was  so  much  trouble  and 
sorrow  in  it  that  it  made  rae  leel  as  if  I  had 
more  than  my  share  of  happiness.  I  wished, 
too,  that  we  had  tried  to  be  more  friendly  with 
her  all  the  time  she  has  lived  here." 

"But,  mother,"  I  said,  "I  have  often  heard 
you  and  Miss  Brown  say  that  she  never  seemed 
to  care  to  know  anyone  and  that  it  was  no  use 
trying  lobe  friendly." 

"That  is  true,  Olive,  but  1  think  if  we  had 
known  what  we  have  lately  heard  about  her  hard 
life,  and  her  brave  struggle  to  do  right,  we 
might  have  tried  more  than  we  did."" 

"  But,  mother,  her  troubles  were  all  over  when 
she  came  to  live  here,"  I  said,  "and  I  think  it 
ought  to  have  made  her  happy  to  have  such  a 
dear  little  cottage  and  garden." 

"Why,  should  you  be  happy,  Olive,  living  in 
the  dearest  little  cottage  in  the  world,  all  alone, 
without  father  or  Basil,  or  Peggy,  or  me?  " 

"  Oh,  mother  !  it  would  be  dreadful,"  I  said. 
"  1  don't  think  I  could  live  a  day,  but  1  thought 
it  was  different  for  grown  people." 

"There  is  a  difference.  Of  course  grown  peo- 
ple can  take  care  of  themselves,  but  they  can 
feel  just  as  lonely  as  little  people,  and  when  sad 


i>vr   Wedding. 


40 


thoughts  come  to  them  it  is  harder  to  send  them 
away.  For  seven  jears  before  Miss  Primmer 
came  here  she  had  been  working  hard  all  the 
lime,  and  that  he!  jed  her  to  bear  her  trouble, 
but  when  she  came  to  live  here  quite  alone  she 
could  not  help  thinking  abo  it  how  happy  she 
had  once  been  and  how  change  i  her  life  was. 
She  was  not  well,  either,  and  that  makes  every- 
thing harder  to  bear.  So  it  was  not  long  before 
people  began  to  say  that  she  was  cross  and 
queer,  and  they  left  otf  trying  to  be  friendly, 
and  she  settled  down  into  her  quiet  life  and  be- 
came what  we  have  always  known  her.  But  all 
these  years  her  life  might  have  been  very  dilt'er- 
ent  if  when  first  she  came  here  there  had  been 
some  kind  friend  who  knew  all,  to  care  for  her." 

"  Well,  she  is  going  to  be  happy  now,  mother," 
I  said. 

"  Yes,  I  think  Captain  Ashley  will  make  her  a 
good,  kind  husband,  but  she  is  not  to  be  married 
for  three  weeks  and  I  think  that  just  now  she  is 
feeling  a  little  puzzled  about  getting  ready,  so  I 
have  been  speaking  to  our  friends  and  we  would 
all  like  to  try  to  help  her." 

"Oh,  mother,  how  nice,"  I  said,  "and  can 
Peggy  and  I  help   too?  " 

"Perhaps  you  may  be  able  to.  What  is  set- 
tled so  far  is  that  as  some  repairs  have  to  be 
made  to   the  cottage.   Miss  Primmer  will  come 


I 


ti 


50 


Mcdifowhursf  Chihfreu. 


and  stay  with  me  till  she  is  married  and  the 
wedding  will  be  from  this  house.  Shall  you 
like  that?" 

"It  will  be  lovely  to  have  the  wedding  here," 
I  said,  "but  I  don't  know  if  it  wi  1  be  nice  to  have 
Miss  Primmer.    J  don't  think  she  likeschildren." 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken,  Olive,"  said 
mother,  "she  has  not  been  used  to  children  for 
many  years,  but  do  you  not  remember  how  she 
kissed  Basil  at  the  Bazaar,  and  see  how  she 
loves  Hugh  already?  Of  course  it  will  seem  a 
little  strange  at  first  to  have  her  here,  but  I  am 
sure  that  I  can  trust  you  t)  be  very  kind  and 
polite  to  her." 

"Yes,  indeed,  mother,"  I  said,  "when  is  she 
coming?" 

"2<ot  till  Saturday  evening.  She  will  be  busy 
at  her  cottage  all  to-morrow  and  then  she  is 
going  to  town  to  buy  what  she  needs.  Mrs. 
Clarke  is  going  with  'ner  to  help  her  choose 
things,  and  they  will  be  away  three  days." 

"That  is  very  kind  of  Mrs.  Clarke,  and  she 
will  be  sure  to  choose  pretty  things.  What  is 
Mrs.  Brown  going  to  do?" 

"She  is  going  to  make  the  wedding  cake,  and 
Mrs.  Archer,  who  has  so  much  taste  about  a 
house,  is  going  to  look  after  all  the  work  that 
is  to  be  done  at  the  cottage  so  that  Miss  Prim- 
mer need  have  no  trouble  about  anything." 


Our   Weddituj. 


51 


Mother  and  I  were  very  busy  tlie  next  day 
getting  our  guest  room  ready,  and  we  did  all  we 
could  to  make  it  look  pretty.  Mother  put  up 
fresh  white  curtains,  and  made  new  cushions 
for  the  old  red  lounge,  and  hung  the  hanging 
basket  she  bought  at  the  bazaar,  in  the  bay 
window.  Father  sent  up  his  nicest  easy  chair 
from  his  study  and  I  hung  my  picture  of  white 
kittens  jumping  at  each  other  through  a  branch 
of  lilacs,  over  her  bed.  Nurse  has  two  old  brass 
candlesticks  that  belonged  to  her  mother  and 
she  polished  them  till  they  shone  like  gold  and 
put  them  on  the  mantlepiece.  Basil  brought  in 
his  Peter  Waggy  and  made  me  fasten  it  on  the 
wall.  I  didn't  want  to  because  it  is  a  funny 
little  man  made  of  cardboard,  and  when  you 
pull  a  string  his  legs  and  arms  tiy  up  and  I  was 
afraid  Miss  Primmer  would  not  like  it  in  her 
room,  but  Hai-sil  thinks  it  lovely  and  I  could  not 
bear  to  grieve  him. 

When  father  brought  Miss  Primmer  home 
Saturday  evening,  I  scarcely  knew  her.  Her 
clothes  were  dlllVrent,  and  her  hair,  j)ud  every- 
thing, and  she  looked  just  like  a  pretty  auntie 
come  to  stay  with  us.  I  wondered  why  we  had 
ever  called  her  old  and  mother  said  we  should 
not  have  done  so,  for  she  was  truly  onl}"^  forty 
now.  Of  course  that  is  pretty  old,  but  we  used 
to    think    she    was    nearly  a   hundred.     Mother 


i 


52 


Meadou'hurst  Children. 


says  that  it  always  makes  people  pretty  to  be 
happy,  and  that  by  trying  to  make  people  happy 
we  are  working  for  God,  who  wants  all  his  chil- 
dren to  match  the  lovely  world  they  live  in. 

The  two  weeks  before  the  wedding  went  very 
quickly,  there  was  so  much  for  everybody  to  do. 

I  went  to  Peggy's  every  day  to  help  her  to 
crack  nuts,  stone  raisins,  beat  eggs  and  cut  up 
dates  and  figs  for  the  wedding  cake,  and  other 
nice  things  that  Mrs.  Brown  was  making.  Fred 
and  Larry  wanted  to  help,  but  we  only  let  them 
try  once.  We  were  stoning  raisins  that  day 
and  the  boys  stoned  all  the  inside  out  of  theirs, 
so  after  that  we  only  let  them  run  errands. 
They  used  to  go  and  watch  the  workmen  up  at 
the  cottage  for  Fred  said  they  would  work  better 
if  they  had  some  one  to  look  after  them.  Mrs. 
Archer  stitched  tablecloths  and  sheets  and  pillow- 
slips on  her  machine  and  Peggy  and  I,  who  have 
both  worked  samplers,  marked  them.  Mrs.  Clarke 
helped  Miss  Primmer  about  her  clothes  and 
mother  just  did  all  she  could  to  make  her  happy 
and  comfortable.  Basil  helped  too.  He  used 
to  go  in  every  morning  and  say  to  Miss  Primmer, 
"I  is  come  to  muse  you,''  and  then  he  would 
squeak  his  woolly  lamb,  and  make  his  Peter 
Waggy  Jump,  and  say,  "Is  you  mused  now?" 
and  she  laughed  so  much  that  I  am  sure  she 
was, 


il 


Our   Weddinff. 


53 


% 


The  wedding  was  to  be  on  the  first  of  Decem- 
ber and  we  were  hoping  the  fine  mild  weather 
would  last,  but  the  day  before  it  turned  very 
cold  and  snow  began  to  fall,  and  when  I  got  up 
on  the  wedding  morning  everything  was  white. 
The  dead  leaves,  dry  grass,  bare  trees,  the 
houses,  fences  and  barns  were  all  covered  with 
the  softest,  loveliest  snow,  and  mother  said  it 
was  a  real  wedding  morning.  We  were  to  be  at 
the  church  at  11  o'clock  and  as  it  was  a  long 
drive  we  started  at  half  past  ten.  Miss  Primmer 
did  not  wear  a  white  gown  with  a  train,  but  she 
looked  very  nice  in  a  suit  of  soft  brown  stuff  and 
a  bonnet  to  match  with  yellow  flowers  in  it. 
She  asked  Peggy  and  me  to  be  her  little  maids 
and  stand  beside  her,  and  we  wore  our  new  brown 
frocks  and  cream  colored  hats.  Little  Hugh 
was  not  in  church  because  his  father  had  already 
taken  him  to  town  and  left  him  at  the  hospital 
where  Dr.  Leonard  is  to  treat  him;  but  except- 
ing Mrs.  Milligan  who  stayed  at  our  house  to 
get  the  lunch  ready,  all  the  friends  who  were  at 
the  Hallowe'en  party  were  there.  Basil  would 
bring  the  Peter  Waggy.  He  said  the  funny 
little  man  wanted   to  see  the  lady  get  married. 

When  the  service  was  over  we  all  drove  back 
to  our  house  and  had  lunch  in  our  big  sunny 
dining-room.  Mother  and  Mrs.  Clarke  had 
dressed  it  up  the  evening  before  with  all  the 


w 


54 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


riowers  they  could  get  and  the  hixy  window  was 
almost  filled  with  ferns  and  chrysanthemums. 
The  table  was  set  with  mother's  best  glass  and 
silver  and  the  purple  china  that  once  belonged 
to  great-grandmother.  But  Fred  said  the  pret- 
tiest thing  on  it  was  the  lunch,  and  it  really  was 
lovely,  as  nice,  I  think,  as  a  Thanksgiving 
dinner.  Besides  the  wedding  cake,  there  was 
oyster  soup,  cold  turkey  and  ham,  chicken  pie, 
jelly,  whipped  cream,  celery,  salad,  some  beau- 
tiful fruit  and  plenty  of  lemonade  and  cotfee. 
After  lunch  we  all  went  and  sat  around  the 
parlor  fire  and  told  stories  and  jokes,  and  vvrhile 
we  were  there  Basil  came  in,  drawing  his  toy 
ship  loaded  with  boxes  of  candy  that  Captain 
Ashley  had  brought  from  town.  There  was  one 
for  everybody,  and  as  Basil  unloaded  the  boxes 
Christa  handed  them  round,  and  then  they  both 
sat  down  on  the  floor  and  began  to  feed  the 
Peter  Waggy  out  of  their  own  boxes. 

"Olive,"  stiid  Peggy  to  me,  as  we  sat  in  the 
bay  window  eating  our  candy,  ''is  it  not  funny 
to  see  such  a  lot  of  the  village  boys  on  the  street 
in  front  of  the  house?  Do  look  at  th^^m,  and 
others  seem  to  be  joining  them  all  the  time.  Do 
you  know  what  they  want?" 

''No  indeed,"  I  said;  "and  look,  Pegg}",  they 
are  all  carrying  parcels.  What  can  it  mean? 
There  are  six  more  coming  around  the  corner, 


Our    Weddluij. 


55 


We  had  better  ask  Fred  to  go  and  ^  jj  what  they 
want."  But  Fred  was  not  in  the  room,  or  Larry 
either,  and  just  then  we  had  to  leave  the  window 
to  say  go^d-bye  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Ashley,  for 
the  sleigh  had  driven  up  that  was  to  take  them 
to  the  station. 

When  we  went  back  to  the  window  the  boys 
w^ere  standing  like  a  procession,  four  abreast, 
right  behind  the  sleigh.  Larry  was  araong3t 
them  and  Fred  was  on  the  sidewalk,  and  just  as 
the  Ashleys  stepped  into  the  sleigh  he  raised  his 
right  hand  and  all  the  boys  cheered  and  shouted 
till  I  think  they  must  have  been  hoarse.  Then 
as  the  sleigh  drove  off  Fred  raised  his  left  hand, 
and  each  boy  pulled  an  old  shoe  of  some  kind 
out  of  his  parcel, and  when  Fred  called out'Tire" 
they  all  threw  together  so  that  the  air  was  just 
black  with  old  boots  and  shoes. 

It  looked  so  funny  that  nobody  could  help 
laughing;  but  father  said  it  would  never  do  to 
leave  them  all  lying  about  the  road,  so  he  told 
Fred  he  must  march  his  little  army  down  and 
make  them  gather  them  all  up.  While  they 
were  doing  this  Mrs.  Brown  cut  a  slice  of  wed- 
ding cake  for  each,  and  when  the  boyscameback 
Fred  brought  them  up  on  the  veranda  and  Peggy 
and  I  went  out  and  handed  round  the  cake. 
Then  the  boys  marched  oil'  and  Fred  came  in 
with  us  and  the  wedding  was  over;  but  we  talk 


56 


Meadoifhurat  Children . 


about  it  nearly  everyday  still,  and  Basil's  favor- 
ite play  is  to  make  his  Peter  Waggy  marry  Miss 
Primmer's,  I  mean  Mrs.  Ashley's  big  Tom-cat, 
who  is  to  live  with  us  till  his  mistress  comes 
home. 


OUR  HEROINE. 


PART    FIRST. 


One  of  our  very  nicest  plays  is  "Barbara  Friet- 
chie, "  and  the  nicest  place  to  play  it  in  is 
our  garret.  It  is  so  big  that  we  can  make 
Fredericktown  right  in  the  middle  of  it,  and 
there  are  lots  of  old  paper  flowers  that  we  can 
stick  in  the  cracks  to  make  the  applo  and  peach 
trees  fruited  deep.  Then  the  stairs  leading  out 
on  to  the  roof  do  splendidly  for  the  army  (that 
is  Peggy  and  Fred  and  I)  to  come  winding  down, 
and  we  call  the  old  pieces  of  furniture 
houses,  and  stick  paper  tlags  on  them.  There  is 
an  old  bureau  that  has  only  the  frame  of  a  look- 
ing-glass left,  and  when  we  push  it  up  against  the 
window  it  is  just  the  right  height  for  Basil, 
standing  on  the  high  window  seat  to  lean  out  of. 
We  have  one  real  tlag  made  of  bunting  and  we 
fasten  it  on  this  old  bureau  and  cover  the  frame 
with  tissue  paper,  so  that  at  first  no  one  can  see 
Basil.  When  the  trampling  is  heard  Larry 
rushes  andpuUs  all  theflagsdown  and  then  hurries 

67 


68 


Meadoivhurst  Children. 


to  join  the  army,  while  Basil  pulls  his  flag  up 
again  by  a  string.  Hy  this  time  the  army  are 
crossing  up  the  street,  and  Fred  has  jumped  on 
the  old  rocking  horse  that  we  have  ready,  so 
that  he  may  be  Stonewall  Jackson  riding  ahead. 
When  he  says  "Halt!"  the  dust-brown  ranks 
(and  I  am  sure  we  look  as  dusty  as  the  real 
rebels),  stand  fast,  and  when  he  says  "Fire  !  " 
Larry  fires  off  all  his  pea-shooters  one  after 
another  to  make  the  rifle  blast,  and  Basil  shiv- 
ers the  tissue  paper  and  lets  the  flag  drop  a  little 
way  and  then  leans  out  and  snatches  it,  and 
shakes  it  forth  with  a  royal  will.  Then  he 
stands  straight  up  with  the  flag  in  his  hand  and 
says:  "Soot  if  you  will,  zis  old  dray  head,  but 
you  mus' not  soot  dis  flag."  Of  course  that's  not 
quite  right,  but  it's  the  best  he  can  do,  and  he 
looks  so  sweet  that  we  can  hadly  help  kissing 
him.  But,  of  course,  that  would  not  do  when 
we  are  soldiers  and  have  to  stand  still  while 
Fred  says:  "Who  touches  a  hair  of  yon  gray 
head  dies  like  a  dog!"  At  first  when  he  said 
tiiat  Basil  would  shout  out:  "  Ze  dog  mus'  not 
die,"  but  now  he  knows  better.  When  Fred 
says,  "March  on!"  we  go  trami)ing  through 
Frederick  Street  till  Basil  is  tired  of  letting  the 
torn  folds  rise  and  fall. 

We  had  been  playing  this   one   stormy   after- 
noon in  the  beginning  of   March,    and   when  it 


Our   /feroine. 


59 


WHS  over  and  nurse  had  taken  Basil  down  to 
have  his  bread  and  milk,  Peggy  and  I  curled 
ourselves  up  in  one  corner  of  grandmother's  old 
lounge,  vnd  the  boys  in  the  other,  and  we  all 
began  to  talk  of  Barbara,  and  how  brave  she  was 
to  lean  out  and  wave  the  tlag  when  she  knew 
that  the  next  moment  she  might  be  shot.  "It 
was  grand,"  said  Peggie,  "  but,  oh,  Olive,  how 
could  she  do  it!  1  know  that  I  never  could. 
Why,  if  I  even  heard  that  an  enemy's  army  was 
coming  to  Meadowhurst  I'd  be  so  frightened  that 
I  couldn't  sleep  nights." 

"Pooh!"  paid  Fred,  "  what  a  goose  you  are, 
Peggy.  Why,  I  should  love  an  army  to  come, 
and  if  there  were  any  Hags  that  ought  to  be  up 
and  the  enemy  hauled  them  down,  Larry  and  I 
would  pull  them  up  quicker'n  winking  if  we  got 
the  chance.     Wouldn't  we,  Larry?" 

"Yes,  after  the  army  had  tramped  away," 
said  Larry. 

"No,"  said  Fred.  "We'd  haul  them  up 
while  the  enemy  were  there  all  pointing  their 
ritles  at  us,  at  least  1  would ;  you  could  be  a 
coward  if  you  liked." 

"Oh,  ho!"  said  Larry.  "I'd  like  to  know 
who  was  coward  last  year  when  we  met  the 
enake?" 

I'^'ed  turned  very  red  in  the  face.  He  can't 
bear  snakes  and  one  day  in  the  autumn  when  we 


i  n 


60 


Metuhivhurst  Children. 


were  gathering  cone?  and  mosses  for  our  bazaar 
and  met  a  big  black  and  yellow  one,  he  turned 
white  and  ran  away. 

"  I  wasn't  afraid  of  the  snake,"  he  said.  "It 
could  do  no  harm,  for  father  says  none  of  the 
snakes  here  are  poisonous,  but  it  was  so  ugly  it 
made  me  feel  sick." 

"  Well,  tlie  enemy  would  make  me  feel  sick," 
said  Lnrry. 

"  How  silly  you  both  are,"  I  said,  "to  dis- 
pute about  what  is  never  likely  to  happen. 
There  is  no  war  now  and  no  enemy  likely  to 
come  to  Meadowhurst,  and  though  I  should  like 
to  do  something  brave  just  as  well  as  you,  Fred, 
I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  get  a  chance,  not  till  I'm 
big,  any  way,  and  perhaps  not  even  then. 
Heroes  and  heroines  are  nearly  always  great 
people,  kings  or  queens  or  generals,  or  they  live 
when  something  exciting  is  going  on,  like  Bar- 
bara I'^rietchie.  Of  course  in  war  time  there 
must  be  lots  of  chances." 

"  Everybody  has  chances,"  snid  P'red.  "  Our 
school  teacher  was  telling  us  that  just  the  other 
day.  He  said  that  the  world  was  a  battle-field 
and  that  everyone  had  a  chance  to  be  a  hero, 
and  he  is  making  us  learn  a  good  rattling  piece 
about  it.  J  don't  know  it  all  yet,  but  just 
listen  to  this  verse,"  and  Fred  jumped  off  the 
sofa  and  stood  up  very  straight  while  he  said: 


J 


Our  Heroine.  61 

"In  the  world's  broad  tield  of  battle, 

In  the  bivouac  of  life, 
Be  not  like  dumb  driven  cattle: 

Be  a  hero  in  the  strife." 

*'  There,  now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  means,"  said  Larry. 
♦'Do  cattle  go  to  battle?" 

*'0f  course  not,"  said  Fred. 

"  Well,  why  does  he  say  not  to  be  like  them?  ' 

"He  means — why  he  means  not  to  act  as  they 
would  if  they  did  go,  you  stupid." 

"I  don't  see  how  he  knew  anything  about  it," 
said  Larry,  "and  I  don't  think  he  knew  much 
about  cattle  either.  If  they  did  go  to  battle  and 
were  any  thing  like  Farmer  Flaxman's  bull 
they'd  make  things  pretty  lively  and  not  be 
dumb,  either." 

"  Oh,  Larry,  do  stop  teasing,"  s-aid  Peggy. 
"  Your  verse  sounded  splendid,  Fred,  and  it  is 
lovely  to  think  that  we  all  may  have  chances, 
and  I  hope  that  you  and  Olive  may  have,  but 
I'm  afraid  that  1  coulil  never  be  biave.  I  feel 
as  if  1  should  always  like  to  stay  at  home  with 
people  I  love  and  do  little  things  to  help  them 
and  make  them  happy." 

"Well,  Peggy,"  said  Fred,  kindly,  "of 
i'ourse  there  must  be  some  people  like  that  to  be 
proud  of  the  others,  and  perhaps  it  may  be  Just 
as  well  for  you  and  Olive,  too,  since  she's  a  girl, 
to  be  something  like  the  cattle,    kind  and  harm- 


\ 


(52 


Jfcadowhur.sf,   Children . 


less  and  useful;  but,  you  bet  when  my  chance 
comes  I'm  going  to  take  it,  and  then  perhaps 
you  will  both  be  learning  a  niece  about  Fred 
Archer  instead  of  Barbara  Frietchic." 

"Do  cattle  learn  pieces?"  Larry  said,  but 
Fred  took  no  notice  of  him,  and  as  the  garret 
was  beginning  to  get  dark  we  all  went  down 
stairs. 

A  few  days  after  this  Mrs.  Brown  went  down 
to  town  to  spend  a  few  days  with  Larkie's 
mother  and  Peggy  came  to  stay  with  us  till  she 
came  back.  One  morning  after  breakfast  mother 
said,  "lam  feeling  worried,  Olive,  about  that  poor 
French  Canadian  family  who  are  living  in  the  lit- 
tle yellow  cottage  on  the  beach.  You  have  heard 
of  them,  have  you  not?" 

"  O,  yes,  mother,"  1  said,  "  Fred  told  me  about 
them.  Their  name  is  Moreau  and  they  came 
here  in  the  Christmas  holidays.  Mr.  Archer 
gave  the  father  w^ork  in  his  mill.  He  had  not 
been  working  for  three  montlis  before  and  when 
Mrs.  Archer  went  to  see  them  they  had  no  food 
or  fire  or  clothes  or  anything." 

"  Yes,  those  aie  the  people.  Mrs.  Archer  was 
very  kind  to  them  and  I  was  able  to  help  them  a 
little,  and  as  the  father  gets  pretty  gootl  wages 
now  they  might  get  along  nicely  if  the  mother 
were  strong.  But  Dr.  Clarke  says  ihat  he  is 
(juitc  anxious  about  her.     There  is  a  little   baby 


\ 


Our  Heroine. 


63 


only  a  month  old  and  Mme.  Moreau  has  never 
been  strong  since  it  was  born.  Lately  she  has  had 
some  bad  fainting  fits  and  it  does  not  seem  right 
for  her  to  be  alone,  especially  as  she  lives  so  far 
from  anj  neighbor.  There  are  two  children  to 
look  after  besides  the  baby,  andLucien,  the  eld- 
est, is  only  four  years  old."  • 

"I  have  seen  him,"  said  Peggy.  "He  is  such 
a  funny  looking  little  fellow,  asd  .'k  as  an  Indian, 
and  with  the  brightest  black  eyes  you  ever  saw, 
and  Fred  says  he  is  full  of  mischief.  He  runs 
away  from  his  mother  and  gives  her  terrible 
frights." 

"Poor  woman,'*  said  mother.  **We  must 
get  her  eome  help.  Mrs.  Milligan  has  been 
there  a  good  deal  but  some  one  is  needed  to  stay 
all  the  time  and  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you  at)out.  Mrs.  Archer  and  I  have  heard  of 
a  woman  at  Ste.  Fidele  who  might  be  able  to 
come,  and  we  mean  to  drive  out  this  morning 
and  if  possible  bring  iier  back  with  us.  But 
meantime  we  want  to  make  sure  that  Mme.  Mor- 
eau has  nourishing  food  for  tnis  morning, 
so  Mrs.  Archer  is  going  to  send  Fred  down 
with  a  can  of  soup  and  some  oi'  her 
nice  bread,  and  I  have  put  a  pot  of  JelJy  and 
two  or  three  other  little  things  in  a  baskeiu 
which  you  and  Peggy  may  take  to  her.  When 
the  sleigh    is  ready  you   may   drive  with  me  as 


i 


64 


Men  do  vhurs  f  Ch  ildren . 


w  \ 


far  as  Mrs.  Archer's  so  that  you  may  all  walk 
to  Mme.  Moreau's  together.  It  will  be  much 
pleasanter  as  it  is  quite  a  long  walk." 

"  We  shall  like  to  go  over  so  much,  mother," 
I  said,  "  and  perhaps  we  may  be  able  to  help 
Madame  a  little." 

"Yes,"  said  Peggy,  "we  might  mind  the 
baby,  or  make  her  some  tea,  or  take  Lucien  out 
to  play  if  he  was  noisy." 

"  You  can  help  in  any  way  you  like,"  mother 
said  smiling,  "and  after  you  have  done  what 
yi.u  can  you  might  have  some  sliding,  so  bring 
your  toboggan  along.  It  can  be  fastened  to  the 
back  of  the  sleigh  and  afterwards  you  can  draw 
the  basket  on  it.  But  you  had  better  run  oft' 
and  get  ready,  for  the  sleigh  is  to  be  at  the 
door  at  10  o'clock." 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  all  packed  into  the 
sleigh.  Peggy  and  I  had  on  our  big  blue 
blanket  coats  and  red  sashes  and  we  each  had  a 
little  parcel  of  sandwiches  tucked  into  our 
pockets,  for  mother  said  we  were  sure  to  be 
hungry  before  we  got  home. 

Fred  was  all  ready  so  we  bade  our  mothers 
good-bye  and  started  for  Mme.  Moreau's.  We  slid 
on  the  toboggan  nearly  all  the  way  down  Fred's 
street,  and  then  we  had  about  half  a  mile  to 
walk  on  the  beach  road  before  we  reached  the 
little  yellow  cottage. 


.L 


Our  Heroine. 


65 


Poor  Mme.  Moreau  was  lying  on  her  bed 
looking  very  white  and  tired.  The  new  baby 
was  lying  beside  her,  and  Elise,  the  little  girl, 
was  sitting  on  the  floor  eating  a  piece  of  bread 
and  molasses.  She  had  been  crying  and  her 
face  was  stained  with  tears  and  molasses,  and 
her  little  hands  were  purple  with  cold.  There 
was  a  big  double  stove  in  the  room  but  the  fire 
in  it  was  nearly   out. 

"How  do  you  do,  Madame?"  Fred  said.  "  I 
think  you  have  seen  me  at  my  father's  mill,  and 
these  are  my  friends,  Peggy  Brown  and  Olive 
Everett." 

"  Bon  Jour,  m'sieur,^'  Madame  said.  "I  am 
mooch  glad  to  see  you  and  your  frenz,  but  I 
haf  shame  dat  you  see  all  so  dirty ;  ma  leetle 
girl  not  dress  and  de  vaisselles  not  wash,  but  I 
so  sick  I  can  do  notings.  De  fire  he  is  out,  and 
de  baby  she  cry,  and  ma  petite  'Lise  she  hon- 
gree,  but  ven  I  try  to  make  de  menage  I  have  no 
strengs  at  all;  I  haf  to  lie  down." 

While  she  was  speaking,  Fred  put  some  wood 
on  the  fire  and  stirred  it  up  so  that  it  began  to 
burn,  and  I  poured  some  of  the  soup  into  a  lit- 
tle tin  pan  that  mother  had  sent,  and  put  it  in 
the  oven.  Then  Peggy  went  softly  up  to  the 
bed  and  said:  "Poor  Madame,  you  have  had  a 
hard  time,  but  perhaps  we  can  help  you  a  little. 
Olive  will  bring  you  some  warm  soup  in  a  min- 


>  t 


i| 


66 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


ute  and  I  can  make  some  bread  and  milk  for 
Elise.  Fred  has  made  the  fire  burn  nicely,  and 
when  there  is  warm  water  we  can  wash  the 
dishes."  While  Peggy  spoke  she  patted  and 
smoothed  the  pillows  and  drew  a  shawl  that 
was  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  up  over  Madame. 

"  Where  is  Lu;  '  ' '  ^^red  said.  "While  the 
girls  tidy  up  I'd  h.  *  to  t>»V/>  the  little  chap  out 
to  play.  It  must  be  sort  of  lonesome  for  him 
here."  "  Yes,  he  find  dat  dere  be  no  leetle  boy 
round  here  and  dat  w'y  he  sometime  run  away. 
But  his  fader  haf  make  him  a  leetle  sled  and 
dat  please  him.  He  go  out  shust  before  you 
oome." 

"I  think  I  see  him,"  said  Fred.  "He  is 
away  out  on  the  ice." 

"  I  tell  him  not  to  go  dere,"  said  Madame; 
"his  fader  say  it  is  too  dangerous,  but  he  is 
a  naughtee  leetle  boy  and  mind  not  what  I  say." 

"Til  run  and  get  him,"  said  Fred.  "It  isn't  safe 
for  a  little  fellow  like  that  to  be  on  the  ice  alone, 
for  if  he  runs  far  enough  he  will  come  to  open 
water.  I'll  run  down  and  get  him,  and  suppose 
while  the  fire  burns  up  you  come  too,  Peggy. 
The  little  chap  might  come  back  with  you 
sooner  than  with  me." 

So  they  ran  off"  and  I  watched  them  a  minute 
from  the  window.  Our  river  is  a  large  one 
with  a  tide,    and  opposite  Meadowhurst   never 


Our  Heroine. 


67 


free/.  8  right  across,  so  that  it  was  dangerous 
for  I  dcien.  But  for  older  children  it  was  a 
jijrand  playing  place,  and  down  nearer  the  vil- 
lage lots  of  people  could  be  seen  skating  and 
sliding  every  day. 

The  soup  was  hot  now,  and  I  brought  some 
to  Madame  and  propped  her  up  with  pillows  so 
that  she  could  take  it  comfortably.  There  was 
more  than  she  needed  and  1  put  it  in  a  saucer 
and  crumbed  some  of  Mrs.  Archer's  bread  intr 
it  and  fed  little  Elise.  She  had  taken  the  la  t 
spoonful  when  the  door  burst  open  and  Fred 
came  in.  He  was  shaking  all  over  and  hi^ 
teeth  chattered  as  he  said:  **  Olive!  0''ve! 
The  ice  has  floated  out  with    Peggy  and  Lu^ien 


on  It. 


M 


I 


,- 


I'ART    SECONl). 


Madame  gave  a  scream  and  fell  back  on  her 
bed.  "  Run  to  the  mill  for  help,  Fred,"  I  said, 
and  almost  before  I  had  finished  speaking  he 
had  gone.  I  ran  down  to  the  beach,  and  saw  in 
the  greatest  of  peril,  far  out  on  a  large  piece  of 
ice  separated  by  a  great  sheet  of  water  from  the 
shore  ice,  Peggy  standing  with  Lucien  beside 
her.  "Peggy  !  Peggy  !  "  I  called  out,  "darling 
Peggy,  don't  be  frightened.  Fred  has  gone  for 
help."  And  I  waved  my  handkerchief.  She 
waved  hers  back,  and  I  could  just  faintly  hear 
her  calling  :  "Don't  fret,  Olive.  I'm  not  afraid. 
Everything  will  be  all  right."  I  watched  her 
for  just  one  minute  and  saw  her  stoop  and  say 
something  to  Lucien  and  put  her  arms  around 
him,  and  then  I  heard  Madame's  baby  crying, 
and  I  ran  back  into  the  cottage. 

For  a  minute  I  could  not  see  anything  clearly. 
All  the  room  seemed  to  be  going  round  and  I 
slid  down  on  the  floor  by  the  bed.  Soon  I  felt 
something  cold  and  found  it  was  Madame's  hand 
hanging  over  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  then  I 
remembered  that  I  must  try  to  help  her.     I  drew 

68 


i  <1 


Our  Heroine. 


60 


i 


the  pillows  from  under  her  head  so  that  she 
could  lie  flat,  and  chafed  her  feet  and  hands. 
Then  I  covered  Elise  and  the  baby  as  warmly  as 
I  could  and  opened  the  door  to  let  in  fresh  air 
and  put  some  milk  that  I  found  in  a  jug  in  the 
cupboard  on  to  warm.  When  it  was  hot  I  man- 
aged to  get  a  little  into  Madame's  mouth;  she 
swallowed  it  and  a  little  color  came  back  to  her 
face  and  soon  she  opened  her  eyes.  When  she 
saw  me  she  said:  'Oh,  mon  Lucien !  Mon  cher 
petit  b  071  horn  me.''''  And  I  think  she  would  have 
fainted  again,  but  the  baby  which  had  quieted 
off  began  to  cry  again,  and  I  put  it  close  beside 
her  and  then  I  began  to  cry  myself  and  that 
seemed  to  help  her. 

"Poor  leetle  one,"  she  said,  "your  friend  is 
gone,  too,  me  for  one  minute  I  forget  dat.  But 
let  us  not  despair,  Le  hon  Dieu  loves  de  leetle 
childs  and  He  is  with  dem." 

"Yes,  God  is  with  them,"  I  said.  "And 
Fred  went  right  off  for  help.  I  think  the  boats 
will  be  out  now." 

"  And  you  will  stay  wid  me,  n''est  cc  pas?^* 
said  Madame.  "And  help  me  care  for  dese 
bebes?  "  And  sh«  clutched  my  hand  very  tight. 

"  For  a  little  while,"  I  said,"  but  I  must  soon 
go.     I  must  find  out  what  is  being  done." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  must  go."  Madame  said,  and 


*    4 


II 


m 


.  i 


'^ 


i\ 


70  Meat/oii'hurst  Children. 

she  tried  to  sit  up,  but  turned  very  white  again 
and  had  to  lie  down. 

"Don't  try  to  move, ''  I  said.  "Drink  a  little 
more  of  the  milk.  Til  stay  with  you  till  some 
one  comes;  you  must  not  be  left  alone.'' 

"Oh,  tank  you,  tank  you,"  Madame  said. 
She  drank  the  cup  of  milk  that  I  brought  her 
and  then  she  was  able  to  nurse  the  baby,  and 
ioon  after  fell  asleep  with  it  on  her  arm. 

Then  I  looked  out  of  the  window,  but  the  ice 
with  Peggy  and  Lucien  had  floated  down  the 
liver  and  wheie  it  had  been  there  was  open 
water.  I  don't  just  remember  what  happened 
next,  but  think  I  must  have  slipped  and  fallen 
down,  for  I  felt  little  Elise  pulling  my  arm  and 
found  that  I  was  on  the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed.  Madame  was  still  sleeping  quietly,  and 
oh,  I  wanted  so  much  to  run  away,  but  I  knew 
that  I  could  not  do  any  good  and  I  had  promised 
to  s'ay.  So  I  put  more  wood  on  the  fire  and 
then  I  washed  little  Elise  and  made  her  look  as 
neat  as  1  could.  She  was  a  dear  little  thing  about 
two  years  old,  with  big  blue  eyes  and  just  enough 
soft  brown  hair  to  cover  her  little  head.  I  put 
her  in  the  big  rocking-chair  while  I  washed  the 
dishes  and  made  the  room  tidy  and  she  chatted 
away  nearly  all  the  time,  though  I  could  not 
understand  more  than  half  of  what  she  said. 
There  was  a  big  clock  in  the  room  and  when   it 


' 


Our  Ifrroinc. 


71 


Btruck  twelve  I  thought  Elise  might  be  hungry, 
80  I  made  her  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  and  she 
ate  it  all,  and  soon  after  foil  asleep  in  the  chair 
with  her  arms  round  a  big  gray  eat. 

Then  I  began  to  feel  dreadfully  lonely. 
While  I  could  hear  Elise  chatter  it  wasn't  so 
bad,  but  now  everything  was  so  still,  and  when 
I  looked  out  I  could  only  see  the  snow  and  ice 
and  the  cruel  river  that  had  taken  Peggy  away. 
Every  mom«^nt  I  hoped  that  some  one  would 
come  but  no  one  did,  though  it  was  now  one 
o'clock.  I  tried  i  ot  to  cry,  but  the  tears  would 
run  down  my  cheeks  and  I  was  glad  when  I  saw 
that  Madame  was  awake  and  looking  at  me. 

"  Pauvre  petite,^'  she  said,  "you  are  ver  good 
to  me.  I  pray  le  bon  Dieu  to  bless  you.  I 
think  die  if  you  not  stay." 

"  I  am  glad  I  stayed,  then,"  1  saiil,  "  and  now 
you  must  try  and  drink  some  more  soup.  I  have 
some  warm  water."  1  brought  it  to  her  and 
while  she  was  drinking  it  I  thought  I  heard  a 
S'^und  of  bells ;  Madame  heard  it  too  for  she  put 
down  htr  spoon  and  began  to  listen.  "It  is  de 
bell  of  de  shursh,  cheri'c,"'  she  said,  "opede  door 
and  we  hear  better." 

I  opened  the  door  and  we  could  hear  our 
church  <  'limes  quite  plainly.  They  seemed  to  be 
ringing  louder  than  I  had  ever  heard  them  before. 


I 


i  If 


■     i| 


72 


Meadowhursf  Children . 


"  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow," 
they  were  saying. 

I  shut  the  door  and  looked  at  Madame.  She 
was  lying  back  on  her  pillow  but  her  eyes  were 
sparkling  and  she  clapped  her  hands.  "  Dey 
have  gotde  ehilds,"  she  said,  "dey  ring  de  bell 
for  dat.  Go,  ma  petite,  I  shall  not  be  long  alone 
now." 

I  tried  to  get  up,  but  something  was  the  matter 
with  me  for  I  could  not  move  from  my  chair, 
but  I  knew  that  Peggy  was  safe  and  I  was 
happy. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  heard  the  sound  of  gleigh 
bells  outside  and  the  door  opened  and  Philippe 
Moreau  with  Lucien  in  his  arms,  Mr.  Brown 
with  Peggy  by  the  hand,  Mrs.  Archer  and 
mother  and  the  nurse  they  had  g")ne  to  fetch, 
all  came  in  together.  At  first  we  could  do  noth- 
ing but  hug  and  kiss  each  other  and  some  of  us 
were  crying.  I  put  my  arms  round  Peggy  and 
mother  put  hers  round  both  of  us,  and  if  I  live 
to  be  a  hundred  I'll  never  feel  happier. 

PoDr  little  Lucien  was  terribly  hungry,  though 
Peggy  had  given  him  all  her  sandwiches,  ^o 
mother  made  them  both  drink  some  toup,  and 
Mrs  Archer  made  a  cup  of  tea  for  everybody, 
and  then  she  and  mother  and  Peggy  and  I  drove 
home. 

It  was  not  till  the  next  day  that  I  heard  what 


Our  Heroine. 


7f8 


X.    «       'I 


had  happened.  Fred  and  Peggy  had  to  run 
quite  a  long  way  out  on  the  ice  to  get  Lucien,  and 
thy  took  the  toboggan  to  bring  him  back  quick- 
er. As  they  were  runnirg  towards  the  shore, 
Fred  heard  the  ice  cracking  and  ihey  ran  as  fast 
as  they  could,  but  soon  came  to  a  great  gap  get- 
ting wider  every  minute.  Fred  jumped  at  once 
and  stretched  his  hand  to  Peggy,  but  ehe  would 
not  leave  Lucien.  Fred  coaxed  her  and  said 
they  could  send  help  at  once  to  him,  and  it  only 
made  things  worse  for  her  to  stay  ;  but  Peggy 
said,  "No,  Fred,  Lucien  is  so  little  he  does  not 
know  what  to  do,  and  when  the  waves  get  rough 
he  might  fall  off.  I  must  stay  with  him  and 
you  must  run  for  lielp.  Run  quickly!  Don't 
lose  a  minute."  So  Fred  rushed  to  the  shore, 
and  after  speaking  to  me  ran  without  stopping 
to  his  father's  mill,  the  nearest  place  where  help 
could  be  had.  Mr.  Archer  stopped  the  mill  and 
sent  the  men  to  the  beach  to  get  out  the  ice 
canoes  while  he  drove  up  to  the  village  himself 
and  brought  down  Mr.  Brown  and  Captain  Ash- 
ley. The  boats  were  now  ready  and  plenty  of 
men  for  each.  Mr.  Brown  and  Philippe  Moreau 
W€re  in  the  first  boat  that  pushed  out,  and  Mr. 
Archer  and  Captain  Ashhyin  the  second.  Peg- 
gy and  Lucien  had  iloated  a  long  way  out  and 
down  the  river.  The  ice  was  breaking  up  all 
round  and  there  was  great  danger  that  they  might 


74 


Mca<loii'lmrsl  Children. 


be  crushed.  There  were  six  canoes  out  in  all, 
b  t  the  river  had  become  very  rough  and  was  so 
full  of  floating  ice  that  it  was  hard  to  get  along. 
The  men  lad  often  to  jump  out  and  pull  their 
canoes  along.  Most  of  the  time  they  could  see 
Peggy  and  Lucien.  They  were  sitting  on  the 
toboggin,  which  Peggy  had  drawn  as  far  from 
the  water's  edge  as  possible,  and  she  had  her 
arm  aroutil  Lucien.  Captain  Ashley  said  that 
Mr.  Brown  and  Philippe  Moreau  rowed  like 
giants  and  the  boat  they  were  in  was  always 
ahead.  They  were  getting  near  the  children 
when  ji  great  lot  of  floating  ice  jammed 
around  them  and  they  could  not  move  the  ca- 
noe. The  ice  in  front  was  so  high  that  they 
could  not  see  over  it,  but  Philippe  Moreau 
jumped  out  and  climbed  over  and  right  on  the 
other  side  were  Peggy  and  Lucien  standing 
upon  the  toboggan.  The  ice  had  crushed 
around  them  so  that  the}'  had  just  room  to  stand 
but  they  were  not  hurt  and  the  men  soon 
dragged  them  out.  Mr.  Brown  signaled  to  the 
other  canoes  to  come  up  as  quickly  as  pos!>ible, 
and  before  long  they  had  all  safely  embarked 
and  started  for  the  shore.  Half  the  time 
the  men  had  to  get  out  and  drag  the  canoes, 
but  at  last  they  got  into  clear  water  and  made 
straight  for  the  shore  The  beach  was 
crowded  with  people.     M.    i^aurent,   the   ^M'icst, 


Our  Heroirte. 


75 


and  Mr.  Bonhara,  our  minister,  were  there 
saying  prayers  together,  and  when  the  canoes 
came  in  everyone  shouted  and  cheered  and 
clapped  their  hands  and  Mr.  Bonham  sent 
Larry  to  tell  the  sexton  to  ring  the  chimes. 

Mr.  Browp,  who  had  never  let  Peggy  out  of 
his  arms,  wanted  to  take  her  right  home,  hut 
she  said,  "  I  must  go  to  Luoien's  for  Olive  is 
there,"  and  so  they  brought  her.  On  the  road 
they  met  Mrs.  Archer  and  mother  driving 
back  from  Ste.  Fidele  and  that  was  how 
they  all  came    together. 

But  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  poor  Fred  ran  so 
fast  to  the  mill  that  when  he  had  told  his  father 
what  had  happened  he  just  dropped  do%\n  en 
the  floor  and  began  to  tremble  and  laugh  anel 
cry  all  at  once.  Mr.  Archer  got  the  wife  of 
the  care-taker  of  the  mill  to  put  him  right  to 
bed  and  at  the  time  Peggy  and  Lucii  n  were 
brought  back  he  was  fast  asleep. 

Mother  says  we  must  all  be  v^  ry  proud  of 
Peggy  and  that  she  is  a  real  heroine.  "For  he- 
roes and  he  oines,  Olive,"  she  said,  "  are  peo- 
ple who  have  so  much  love  in  their  hearts,  that 
if  they  can  do  good  to  nnyone  they  cannot 
think  of  themselves.  I  el<;n't  mean  good  to 
those  they  love,  but  to  anybody.  I'fg^y  could 
not  love  Lucien  for  hini'clf,  she  hardly  knew 
him,  but  he  was  a  little  child  who    needed    help 


76 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


and  she  was  willing  to  give  up  ev*  ry thing  that 
was  dear  to  her,  even  her  1  iving  and  lovely  life, 
rather  than  desert  him ;  and  because  in  that  she 
was  like  the  bravest  man  and  greatest  hero  that 
ever  lived,  our  little  Peggy  may  truly  be  called 
a  heroine." 

And  I  think  th  <t  mother  was  right. 


, 


■x^^H.^. 


OUR  BIRTHDAY. 


I  don't  think  I  have  ever  told  you  that  Peggy 
and  I  have  the  same  birthday.  It  is  on  the 
first  of  Maj,  and  when  we  read  how  little  Eng- 
llhh  children  are  able  to  spend  the  day  outdoors 
dancing  round  May' poles  and  making  garlands 
for  May  queens,  we  sometimes  wish  it  would  be 
a  little  warmer  in  Meadowhurst,  where,  on  the 
first  of  May,the  trees  are  just  about  in  bud,  and 
the  fields  beginning  to  get  green.  There  are 
often  great  blocks  of  ice  still  floating  in  the 
rive',  and  Mr.  Bonham  remembers  once,  long 
ago,  the  river  being  frozen  across  on  May  day, 
and  some  people  put  up  a  pole  and  danced  round 
it  in  their  fur  coats  and  caps  just  for  fun.  How- 
ever, we  hiive  lovely  long,  light  days  and  lots  of 
sunshine,  and  sometimes  it  is  quite  warm  and 
pleasant,  so  that  we  have  always  thought  that 
our  birthday  came  at  a  very  nice  time. 

The  May  day  after  Peggy's  adventure  on  the 
ice  was  our  tenth  birthday,  and  about  a  week 
before  I  came  down  into  the  parlor  one  after- 
noon and  found  Mr.  Bonham  and  M.  Laurent, 
the  priest,  sitting  with  mother.     1  wbh  surprised, 

77 


78 


Meado  vh  urst  Children . 


for  though  they  are  very  good  friends  and  would 
never  think  of  wanting  to  kill  each   other  like 
the  Catholics  and  Protestants  we  are  learning 
about  in  our  history,  they  do  not  often  pay  calls 
together.     I  was  very  glad  to  see  them,  though, 
and  they  seemed  to   be   very   glad    to   see   me. 
They  laughed  when  I  came  into  the   room,    and 
M.  Laurent    said  as  he  shook   hands:    "Why, 
here  is  the  little  gardemalade  (sick  nurse)   her- 
self," and  Mr.  Bonham  patted  my  head  and  said : 
"  Dr,    Clarke    was    getting   jealous    of    me  for 
making  his  patients  well  quicker  than  he  could." 
I  knew  they  were  joking,  but  mother  was  smil- 
ing, too,  and  looking  so  pleased,  that  when  they 
were  gone  I  suid :  "I  am  sure  you  know  some- 
thing nice,    mother.     Do  teil  me  what  it  is?  " 
'*I    should    lik^  to  tell  you,    Olive,"  she  said, 
"but    can    you    keep    a    secret?"    "  Why,    of 
course,  mother.     Don't  you  remember  how  many 
gecrets  Peggy  and  I  have  kept  together?  "  "  But 
this  must  not  be  told  to  Peggy.     Could  you  man- 
age that?"   "  It  would  be  hard,"   I   said,    "but 
if  Peggy  isn't  to  know,  it  must  be  about  some- 
thing nice  for  her,   and  I  .mi   sure   1   could  keep 
from    telling    i.er   till     the    right    time    came." 
"That  is  Mv  wisc  Mttle  woman,"   said  mother, 
"  and  now    i    rihuU    tell  you.     You    know    how 
much  the  vjiiagf  }vv>))1e  admired  Peggy's  hrav- 
ery  in  staying  wifii  Lvjcien,    Jind,    as   far  as   we 


Our  liirfhday. 


ro 


Can  see,  saving  his  life.  Well,  they  have  been 
wishing  ever  since  to  give  her  some  little  pres- 
ent as  a  token  of  their  love,  but  until  the  matter 
was  decided  I  thought  it  best  not  to  let  you 
know,  and  at  first  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brown  would 
not  consent."     "  Oh,  mother,  why  ?  " 

"  They  thought  that  Peggy,  being  the  loving 
little  girl  she  is  could  not  help  doing  as  she  did, 
and  that  it  might  even  grieve  her,  for  people 
to  act  as  though  it  were  a  strange  thing,  for 
she  thinks  that  anyone  would  do  the  same.  So 
when  M.  L:iurent  told  them  what  Mr.  Archer's 
mill  people,  who  were  the  fiist  that  tu  ught  of 
it,  being  fellow-workmen  with  Philippe  Moreau, 
wished  to  do,  they  would  not  consent.  But  the 
mill  people  would  not  give  up  the  idea  and  kept 
bringing  their  little  offerings  to  M.  Laurent, 
and  meantime  some  of  the  English  people  spoke 
to  Mr.  Bonham,  so  this  afternoon  the  two  cler- 
gymen together  succeeded  in  persuading  Pe{;;gy'8 
p  irents  to  let  th?  present  bs  given  on  certain 
conditions,  and  they  called  here  to  tell  me  of 
their  success."' 

"  What  are  the  conditions,  mother?  " 
"  One  was  that  the  present  must  not  be  very 
\:iluable,  the  second  that  it  must  be  given  rather 
as  a  token  of  love  to  Pegii,y  on  the  occasion  of  her 
being  rescued  from  danger  than  as  a  reward  for 
bravery :  and  the  last  I  have  been  asked  to  keep 


»   '"'.i 


80 


Meadowhurst  Children . 


quite  a  secret  for  the  present,  but  I  may  tell 
you  later  on." 

"What  is  the  present  to  be,  mother  ?  " 

"That  is  just  where  we  hope  you  can  help  us, 
Olive.  It  is  hard  to  think  of  getting  anything 
for  Peggy,  for  she  is  silways  so  satisfied.  I 
never  remember  hearing  her  wish  fur  anything 
for  herself.'" 

"  She  loves  animals,  mother,  and  I  heard  her 
say  once  that  she  would  like  a  great  big  St. 
Bernard  dog." 

"Captain  Ashley  thought  of  that,  but  her 
parents  would  think  it  too  expensive,  and  for 
myself,  I  like  the  idea  of  something  that  could 
be  kept  in  the  family  for  Peggy's  children  and 
grandchildren    to  see  by-and-by." 

"Oh,  mother!  How  funny  to  think  of  Grand- 
mother Peggy,  but  1  know  the  very  thing — a 
silver  cur>.  and  she  would  like  it.  I  heard  her 
say  so  after  we  had  been  reading  'The  Angel 
of  the  Cup.'  " 

"  I  don't  remember  the  story,  Olive.  Tell  it 
to  me." 

"It  was  about  a  cup  given  to  a  kniglit  for 
some  great  service  done  his  king,  and  when  he 
died  he  left  directions  that  it  should  forever  be 
passed  on  to  that  one  of  his  descendants, decided 
in  family  council  to  be  the  noblest,  the  renlly 
noblest,   1   mean,  the  bravest  and   ni(.st   loving; 


1 


\ 


Our  Jiirthday. 


81 


and  so  it  went  on  for  hundreds  of  years,  and  the 
cup  was  held  by  all  sorts  of  people — young,  old, 
rich,  poor;  men,  women,  priests,  sailors,  soldiers 
— and  the  hope  of  every  child  born  into  the  fam- 
ily was  that  he  might  one  day  gain  it.  But  the 
family  became  smaller,  for  the  men  in  those  days 
were  always  getting  killed  in  battle  and  the 
women  going  into  convents  to  pray  for  them,  and 
at  last  there  was  just  one  little  girl  left  to  hold  the 
cup,  and  she  wished  nothing  so  much  as  to  be  able 
to  do  something  worthy  of  it;  so  she  grev/  up  and 
was  about  to  be  married,  when  the  plague  broke 
out  in  London,  where  she  lived,  and  instead  of 
hurrying  away  from  town,  as  all  the  people  did 
who  could,  she  stayed  and  learned  how  to  care 
for  the  sick  and  went  from  house  to  house  tend- 
ing them,  till  they  died  or  recovered;  and  because 
she  always  had  her  cup  with  her  and  used  it  to 
give  the  poor  suffering  people  cooling  drinkp, 
she  was  called  '  The  Angel  of  the  Cup.'  After 
she  had  tended  morie  people  than  I  can  remem- 
ber, she  took  the  disease  herself  and  died,  and 
the  cup  was  buried  with  her." 

"What  a  pretty  story,  Olive;  and  1  am  so 
glad  to  know  of  something  that  Peggy  would  like. 
I  shall  write  a  note  to  Mr.  Bonhani  about  it  and 
you  might  take  it  for  me  when  you  go  to  look 
for  hepaticas  this  afternoon,  for  the  elm  tree 
field  where  you  always  find  the  first  is  quite  near 


fii 


8l> 


Mcadoii'hurst  Chiblren. 


the  rectory.  That  is  where  you  meant  to  go,  is 
it  not?" 

"Yes,  mother;  but  Peggy  has  a  cold  jtnd  is 
not  coming,  so  thrre  will  be  only  Fred  and  I. 
Does  he  know  the  secret?" 

"Hl^  'n:iy,  but  if  not  you  can  tell  him,  for  we 
meant  as  soon  as  the  matter  was  quite  settled  to 
let  all  Peggy's  friends  know.  You  had  better 
run  for  your  hat  and  jacket,  for  I  see  Fred  com- 
ing down  the  street  and  Larry  is  with  him.  You 
may  tell  them  both  and  perhaps,  between 
you  all,  you  can  think  of  a  pretty  motto  for  the 
cup." 

We  were  soon  walking  along  the  road  and  the 
boys  were  as  pleased  as  they  could  be  to  hear 
about  the  present,  and  promised  not  even  to 
look  as  if  they  knew  a  secret  before  Peggy. 
About  the  motto.  Larry  said  there  would  be  no 
trouble,  for  he  knew  lots. 

"But  perhaps  they're  not  the  right  kind,"  I 
said.     "We  want  a  suitable  one." 

"Well,  what  could  be  suitabler  than  this." 
Slid  Larry:  *'Kocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep?" 

"That's  not  a  motto  at  all,"  said  Fred,  "it's 
the  name  of  a  song." 

"Is  that  so?"  said  Larry.  "Well,  nevermind, 
I  know  lots  more.  I've  writ  more'n  a  hundred 
of  them  in  my  copybook.  Here  now,  'A  new 
broom,'  no,   *A   rolling   pin   gathers    no    moss,' 


Our  Birthffay. 


88 


J 


'Nine  stitches  save  time,'  oh,  bother !  They  seem 
to  be  getting  mixed  and  I  ean't  thinic  of  the 
right  one,  Hurrah!  here  it  is:  'Time  and  Tide 
wait  for  no  Man.'  There's  a  beauty,  and  the 
suitablest  of  all,  for  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
tide  the  ice  wouldn't  have  floated  off." 

"Those  are  all  proverbs,  Larry,"  1  said. 
"They're  not  mottoes." 

"Well,  I  know  a  motto,  too,  sure  and  certain," 
said  Larry,  "and  it's  the  proudest  motto  for  the 
young.  It  says  so  in  our  reader.  'Write  it  in 
lines  of  gold,'  but  silver  would  do,  and  it  has  a 
holy,  cheering,  power,  'There's  no  such  word  as 
fail.  " 

"I  wish  you'd  let  up,  Larry,"  said  Fred,  "and 
let  some  one  else  talk.  We  don't  want  anything 
like  that.  It's  more  a  sort  of  a  saying  you'd  like, 
Olive,  isn't  it?"  Something  like  the  "Always 
Keady'  on  the  fire  engine,  or  the  mottoes  fam- 
ilies have.  If  the  cup  was  for  me  I'd  like 
'God  Save  the  Queen'  better  than  anything  else, 
but  how  do  you  think  Peggy  would  like  'Onward 
and  Upward?" 

"It  wouldn't  do  at  all,"  said  Larry,  "there 
was  no  upward  to  it.  The  tide  was  running 
down  just  as  fast  as  ever  it  could." 

"That  is  more  the  kind  I  would  like,  though," 
I  said,  "but  suppose  we  ask  Mr.  Bonhani.  Here 
we  are  at  the  rectory,'' 


I 


^>. 


,1 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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l^|28     |2.5 

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Photographic 

SdKices 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WnSTM.N.Y.  UStO 

(716)  173-4303 


K 


^1 


?■  J 


84 


Meadowharst  Children. 


"I  think  that  nothing  could  be  more  suitable 
than  the  cup,"  said  Mr.  Bonham,  when  he  had 
read  mother's  note,  "and  now  you  want  a 
motto?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "and  it  seem  so  hard  to  get 
just  the  right  one.  It  ought  to  be  something 
that  would  remind  us  of  the  day,  and  of  Peggy 
herself,  besides  being  sweet  and  good  to  look 
at  and  helpful  to  her  all  her  life." 

"Well,  there  is  one  word  that  does  and  is  all 
that,"  said  Mr.  Bonham,  "and  that  word  is  love. 
It  was  love  that  made  Peggy  do  as  she  did,  so 
that  must  be  our  first  word.  And  because  all 
hard  tasks  become  easy  when  done  through  love, 
it  is  often  said  that  love  conquers  everything. 
I  think  we  could  not  get  a  better  motto,  but  we 
might  put  it  into  Latin,  as  it  is  a  little  shorter, 
and  mottoes  are  generally  written  in  that  lan- 
guage. '•Caritas  vine  it  omnia. ^  Do  you  like 
that?' 

We  all  thought  it  a  lovely  motto  and  said  so, 
then  after  thanking  Mr.  Bonham,  we  bade  him 
good-bye  and  went  to  look  for  our  flowers. 

On  our  birthday  morning  I  was  awakened  by 
Fred  and  Larry  firing  theii  b  ass  cannons  under 
my  window  for  a  salute  and  I  jumped  up  and 
found  that  it  was  a  lovely  warm  day.  As  soon 
as  I  was  dressed  I  ran  down  to  the  dining-room, 
where  I  found  breakfast  ready  and  a  basket  of 


< 


II       ! 


\    '1 


Our  Birthday. 


85 


y 


'    '4 


i 


sanguinarias  and  hepaticas,  which  the  boys  had 
brought,  in  the  middle  of  the  table.  Mother, 
father  and  Basil  all  kissed  me  and  wished  me 
many  happy  returns,  and  then  I  looked  at  my 
pesents,  which  were  spread  out  on  a  little  table 
near  my  place.  There  was  a  dear  little  china 
tea  set  from  mother,  and  silver  tea  spoons  from 
father  to  go  with  it,  a  little  brass  hot-water  kettle 
from  nurse,  and  a  tiny  silver  butter-knife  from 
Basil.  The  little  tsible  was  from  father  and 
mother  and  the  pretty  cloth  and  napkins  from 
Peggy,  who  had  worked  my  initials  on  them 
herself.  I  was  so  delighted  that  I  could  hardly 
thank  everybody  enough,  for  I  had  been  wanting 
just  such  things  for  a  long  time.  My  old  tea 
set  was  so  small  that  the  cups  had  to  be  filled  a 
dozen  times  before  people  had  enough,  and  eo 
many  of  the  plates  were  broken  that  we  had  to 
make  out  with  oyster  shells,  and  my  butter-knife 
was  an  old  ink  eraser. 

"These  are  all  good  things,  Olive,"  said 
mother.  "You  are  ten  years  old  now  andean  be 
trusted  to  take  care  of  nice  cups  and  saucers, 
and  these  will  do  you  for  a  great  many  years  to 
make  tea  for  your  friends." 

"I'll  take  great  care  of  them  mother,"  I  said. 
"I'll  try  to  have  every  one  to  show  to  my  children 
by-and-by."  At  ten  o'clock  Peggy  came  as 
usual  to  have  lessons   with  me   until    half   past 


i  I 


i 


86 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


■:  ?i 


I' 


n  ^11 


twelve,  and  when  they  were  over  ard  she  had 
seen  my  presents  I  went  home  with  her  to  see 
hers.  They  were  a  sweet  little  silver  watch 
from  her  father  and  mother,  a  little  blue  cush- 
ioned rocking  chair  from  Alfred,  a  hammock 
from  John  and  the  "Katy"  books  from  me.  The 
dearest  present  of  all,  though,  was  a  lovely 
African  kitten  from  Norah,  Mrs.  Brown's  cook. 
Her  young  man,  who  lives  in  town,  got  it  from 
the  mate  of  a  ship  and  sent  it  out  to  Norah  on 
purpose  for  Peggy.  It  was  just  a  beauty, 
striped  in  two  shades  of  Maltese  blue. 

In  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Brown,  mother,  Peggy 
and  I  drove  to  Kinloch,  six  miles  out  on  the 
mountain  road  back  of  Meadowhurst,  to  see 
old  Mrs.  Keith,  who  was  Mrs.  Brown's  nurse 
when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  after  she  was 
married  nursed  her  children.  This  is  always 
one  of  our  best  birthday  treats,  for  the  mountain 
air  is  so  fresh  and  sweet  and  it  is  so  lovely  to 
drive  through  the  woods  when  everything  is  just 
waking  up.  Mrs.  Keith,  too,  is  just  the  dearest 
old  lady.  She  came  from  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  where  she  used  to  live  with  Peggy's 
grandfath(  r,  and  she  speaks  in  such  a  soft,  sweet 
voice.  She  calls  us  "bairnies"  and  Peggy  her 
"puir  sweet  lammie,"  and  she  always  gives  us 
barley  scones  and  a  drink  of  new  milk  when  we 
go  to  see  her.     J  have  not  time  to  tell  about  our 


i 


Our  Birthday. 


87 


visit,  except  that  she  gave  Peggy  a  quilt  made 
out  of  pieces  of  Mrs.  Brown's  dresses  from  when 
she  was  a  baby  till  ten  years  old ;  a  basket  of 
trout  fresh  out  of  the  lake  near  her  house,  and 
some  shortbread  and  Scotch  bun  that  she  had 
baked  on  purpose  for  her  "lammie's"  birthday. 
We  got  back  to  the  Browns'  just  in  time  for  tea 
and  found  Fred  and  Larkie  waiting  on  the 
veranda.  We  were  so  surprised  to  see  Larkie. 
Mrs  Brown  and  mother  and  Fred  knew  she  was 
coming,  but  they  had  not  told  us  because  they 
wanted  us  to  have  a  surprise.  Larkie  was  taller 
than  ever  and  told  us  that  her  mother  had  taken 
her  from  school  because  she  was  growing  too 
fast,  and  had  sent  her  to  Meadowhurst  for  a 
litt' 3  change.  She  brought  us  each  a  tea  rose  and 
a  box  of  chocolate  creams. 

After  tea,  as  the  evening  had  turned  rather 
chilly,  Mrs.  Brown  had  a  wood  fire  lighted  in 
the  parlor  and  we  all  sat  round  and  had  what 
Peggy  calls  "a  happy  talk  '  time."  Larkie 
had  lots  to  tell  is  about  her  life  in  town,  and 
mother  and  Mrs.  Brown  told  us  stories  about  when 
they  were  little  girls.  While  we  were  talking 
we  heard  the  door-bell  ring  ever  so  many  times, 
and  quite  a  lot  of  people  came  in,  l)ut  they  all 
went  into  the  library.  Mr.  Brown  went  to 
speak  to  them  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  came 
back  and  said,  "Olive  and  Peggy  are  wanted  in 


1 


f 


\\  % 


88 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


1^ 


i 


I  i 


the  library  by  a  number  of  friends  who  have 
come  to  wish  them  many  happy  returns  of  their 
birthday."  "How  kind  they  are,"  paid  Peggy. 
"You  will  thank  them  for  us,  won't  you  father?" 
"No,  little  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  "you 
must  speak  for  yourself."  So  we  followed  him 
to  the  library,  which  we  found  just  crowded 
with  people.  M.  Laurent,  Mr  Bonham  and  all 
our  friends,  Christa  and  Basil,  with  their  nurses, 
Philippe  Moreau  with  his  wife  Lucien,and  a  lot  of 
work  people  from  Mr.Archer's  mill, were  all  there. 
When  we  came  into  the  room  Mr.  Laurent  said, 
"We  wish  these  young  ladies  a  very  happy 
birthday,"  and  then  everyone  clapped  and 
clieered.  When  they  were  quiet  Peggy  and  I 
stepped  a  little  in  front  and  Peggy  said,  "Thank 
you  all  very  much.  Olive  and  I  shall  always 
remember  your  kindness  and  we  hope  you  will 
all  stay  and  have  some  birthday  cake."  They  all 
clapped  again,  especially  Larr3%  who  called 
out:  "Every  time,  Peggy,"  and  Basil  said: 
"  Ess,  Cissa  and  me  will  eat  ze  take."  Every- 
body laughed  and  then  Mr.  Bonham  said  :  ■'  We 
shall  all  be  very  happy  to  accept  the  kind  invi- 
tation of  Miss  Margaret  Brown  and  Miss  Olive 
Everett  to  share  their  cake  with  them,  and  in 
return  we  hope  that  they  will  accept  a  little 
gift  from  us.  I  am  sure  that  no  one  here  for- 
gets that  terrible  day,  when  for  some  hours  two 


Our  Birthday. 


89 


precious  little  lives  were  in  great  danger,  when 
one  would  almost  certa'nly  have  been  lost  had 
not  one  of  these  dear  little  girls  freely  risked 
her  own  and  kept  up  her  courage  through  a 
trial  that  would  have  been  too  much  for  many  a 
strong  man.  And  her  little  friend  at  the  same 
time,  in  a  lonely  cottage  by  a  sick  bed,  putting 
her  grief  aside  and  doing  from  moment  to  mo- 
ment just  what  she  could,  showed  as  true  cour- 
age, and  our  good  friend.  Dr.  Clarke,  tells  me 
that  her  care  and  thoughtfulness  also  saved  a 
life."  "  Mr.  Bonham  speaks  what  we  all  feel," 
said  M.  Laurent,  "  and  as  a  token  of  our  love 
and  gratitude  to  these  little  ladies  we  hope  that 
taey  will  accept  from  us  all,  L.ese  silver  cups." 
As  he  spoke  he  lifted  up  a  white  cloth  and  took 
from  beneath  two  beautiful  silver  cups  which 
he  handed  to  Peggy  and  to  me. 

We  just  couldn't  say  a  single  word,  so  Mr. 
Brown  got  up  and  said  :"  As  these  little  girls 
seem  too  surprised  to  speak  for  themselves,  I 
must  thank  you  in  their  name  for  these  hand- 
some cups,  which  as  a  token  of  your  love  will 
always  be  vary  precious  to  them,  while  the 
motto  you  have  chosen,  '  Love  conquers  all 
things,'  will,  I  feel  sure,  help  them  to  live  as 
our  heavenly  Father,  whose  dearest  name  is 
Love,  would  have  them.  And  now  I  think  they 
must  try   to   say   something  for  themselves," 


I' 


90 


Meado whurst  Children . 


So  Peggy  and  I  went  around  thanking  people 
as  well  as  we  could  and  showing  the  cups. 
They  were  goblet-shaped,  lined  with  gold,  had 
a  sweet  angel  face  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other 
our  initials  and  just  below,  "  Meadowhurst, 
March  10,  189 — ."  Peggy's  had  daisies  chased 
all  over  it  aLd  mine,  olive  leaves  and  flowers. 
The  motto  was  the  same  on  each  and  was  en- 
graved around  the  base.  When  all  the  visitors 
had  gone  I  said,  ''Mother,  I  don't  understand 
why  they  gave  me  a  cup,  and  I'm  sure  I  don't 
deserve  it.  I  did  nothing  brave,  only  stayed 
with  poor  Madame  Moreau  when  there  was  no 
one  else  there,  and  I  didn't  even  want  to  do  that. 
I  would  have  liked  to  have  said  so, but  I  couldn't." 

"Why,  Olive,  you  dear,"  said  Peggy,  "that 
was  just  it — that  you  did  it  when  it  was  hard, 
und  you  didn't  want  to,  and  you  were  really 
useful,  too.  Now,  I  did  nothing  but  stay  where 
I  was.  They  ought  not  to  have  given  me  a  cup, 
and  I  would  never  have  taken  it  if  thty  hadn't 
given  you  one,  too." 

"  Feggy  is  right,  Olive,"  said  Mrs.  Brown. 
"I  told  your  mother  when  first  she  spoke  to  Jiio, 
that  I  could  not  let  Peggy  accept  any  gift  un- 
less 3-0U  were  equally  remembered." 

"Yes,  Olive,"  mother  said,  "  that  was  the 
other  condition,  and  all  who  were  concerned 
agreed  with  Mrs.  Brown." 


OUR  SUMMER  VISITORS. 


Peggy  and  I  were  ever  so  glad  to  have  Larkie 
Adams  back  in  Meadowhi/.  ,.  If  there  had 
been  nothing  else  to  make  our  birthday  happy, 
it  would  have  been  enough  to  have  her  come. 
But  at  first  ve  were  a  little  afraici  that  she 
w^ould  be  lonely,  for  Fred  hud  to  be  at  school 
nearly  ail  day,  and  Peggy  and  I  had  lessons 
in  the  morning.  Hut  Larkie  i?ever  seemed  to 
think  of  such  a  thing.  "  Why,  no,  Olive,''  she 
said  onoe  when  I  asked  her,  "I  can't  be  lonely 
whtr  there  are  to  many  nice  things  to  do  all  the 
time.  I  love  to  help  Uncle  Fred  with  his  gar- 
den. You  know  we  have  no  garden  in  the  city; 
only  a  grass  plat  in  front.  Then  I  take  care  of 
the  chickens  and  auntie  lets  me  help  her  in  the 
house.  Besides,  I  often  go  to  the  Ashley's,  and 
I  always  Iiavi^  fun  there.  It  is  such  a  treat  to 
see  little  Hugh  strong  and  well  again." 

We  were  all  very  happy  about  Hugh.  At  the 
time  his  father  niariied  he  was  sent  to  a  hospi- 
tal in  town  to  be  treated  for  his  lameness,  and 
at  first  the  doctors  thought  he  would  be  cured  in 
three  months,  but    t  was  only    the  week  before 

w 


U 


!  i 


02 


Meadowhurat  Children. 


our  birthday,  after  neprly  five  months'  treat- 
ment, that  he  was  quite  well  and  able  to  be  sent 
home,  He  had  found  it  very  hard  to  be  away 
from  his  father  for  so  long,  and  some  of  the 
treatment  was  very  painful ;  but  Captain  Ash- 
ley, who  went  often  to  see  him,  promised  that 
if  he  would  do  his  very  best  to  be  patient  and 
cheerful,  he  would  make  him  a  present  of  any- 
thing he  liked  to  ask  for  when  he  was  cured. 
Hugh  did  try,  and  was  so  brave  and  bright 
tiiat  all  who  helped  to  take  care  of  him  won- 
dered at  him,  and  now  that  he  had  come  home 
well  and  strong,  his  father  was  ready  to  keep 
his  promise,  but  Hugh  seemed  to  find  it  h  «rd  to 
decide  what  to  ask  for. 

'*  It  wouldn't  take  me  long  to  make  up  my 
mind,"  said  Fred  one  warm  evening  near  the 
end  of  May  that  we  were  all  sitting  under  the 
trees  in  the  cherry  orchard.  "I'd  ask  for  a 
bicycle,  and  then  I'd  explore  the  country  for 
miles  around  and  make  all  sorts  of  discoveries." 

"I'd  rather  have  a  boat,"  I  said.  "  I  like 
exploring  on  water  better  than  on  land,  and, 
besides,  you  could  all  come  with  me,  and  per- 
haps if  a  steamer  upset  I  might  be  able  to  row 
oat  and  eave  somebody's  life." 

"  Tijat  would  be  splendid,"  said  Peggy,  "but 
I  think,  perhaps,  I  would  choose  a  pony,  a  pure 
white  pony.     It    seems   a  little   selfish,    for,  of 


/^ 


Our  Summer   Visitors. 


08 


course,  I  couldn't  bring  you  all  out  riding  with 
me,  but  I  could  let  you  have  lots  of  turns. 
What  would  you  like,  Larry?" 

"  A  whole  barrel  of  molasses  made  into  can- 
dy," said  Larry. 

"Oh!    how  greedy  you  are,"  said  Fred. 

"No,  sir!  I'm  not,"  said  Larry.  "  You'd  be 
a  lot  greedier  abking  for  a  $100  bicycle  that 
only  you  could  ride.  My  candy  wouldn't  cost 
nearly  so  much  and  I  could  give  some  to  every- 
one in  the  village,  go  there !  I'm  the  ungreed- 
iest  of  you  all." 

"Yes,  indeed,  Larry,"  said  Larkie,  "yours 
would  really  be  a  sweet  choice,  and  J  dare  say 
Fred  would  enjoy  a  treat  of  that  kind  as  much 
as  anyone." 

Fred  looked  cross  for  a  moment,  but  it  is  hard 
to  be  cross  with  Larkie,  so  he  said:  "Well,  I 
suppose  I  might,  but  still  I'm  sure  Captain 
Ashley  wouldn't  like  Hugh  to  choose  that." 

"No,"  said  Larkie,  "I  think  he  wants  him 
to  choose  something  that  will  last.  I  told  him 
that  I  thought  a  little  gold  watch  would  be 
nice,  and  he  said  he  would  like  it,  but  there 
was  something  he  wanted  more,  but  it  would 
cost  so  much  he  didn't  like  to  ask  his  father 
for  it." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  what  it  was?"  asked  Peggy. 

"No,  for  Captain  Ashley  came  in  just  then. 


u 


Meatfuwhurst  Children. 


u 


and  th()Uj(h  Hu^h  loves  his  father  dearly,  he 
is  Htill  a  little  shy  of  him ;  but  I  am  j^oing  to 
see  him  a^ain  to-morrow,  and  I'm  sure  I  can 
coax  him  to  tell  me.  Why  do  you  look  so  ^rave, 
Olive?" 

''Oh,"  I  said,  '*I  was  just  thinking  it  was 
odd  for  Huj^h  to  want  an  expensive  present. 
He  was  sueli  a  simple  little  fellow  and  used  to 
little;  but  you  haven't  said  what  you  would 
choose,  Larkie." 

"I'll  not  tell  this  evening,"  said  Larkie, 
"but  I  think  that  perhaps  Huj^h  and  I  want 
the  same  thin^  and  if  I'm  rij?ht,  Olive,  you 
won't  be  disappointed. 

Peggy  and  I  were  asked  to  drink  tea  at  the 
Archer's  the  next  day,  and  when  Larkie  met  us 
at  the  garden  gate,  her  eyes  were  just  dancing 
with  joy. 

"  Come  on  to  the  summer  house,"  she  said, 
"  Fred  is  there,  but  I  wouldn't  tell  him  any- 
thing till  you  came." 

We  were  soon  in  the  summer  house  and 
then  Larkie  told  us  that  what  little  Hugh 
wanted  most  of  all  was  to  have  some  poor 
children  from  town  sent  out  to  spend  a 
whole  month  at  Meadowhurst  just  as  he  had 
been,  but  had  been  afraid  to  ask  his  father  for 
so  great  a  favor  on  account  of  the  trouble  arid 
expense. 


Our  Summer   Visitors. 


06 


"Has  he  ar  ked  him  now?  "  said  Peggy. 

"Yes,  and,  oh!  Peggy,  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Ashley  have  been  so  good.  Hugh  asked  for  six 
and  they  said  he  might  have  twelve." 

"Twelve,"  said  Fred.  "  Oh,  ericky  !  Where 
will  they  all  sleep  ?  " 

"They  are  to  camp  in  the  Ashley's  big  new 
barn,"said  Larkie.  "Twelve  camp  beds  are  to  be 
put  up  in  the  loft,  and  the  lower  part  is  to  be 
divided  by  curtains  into  two  parts,  a  dining-room 
and  a  play-room,  v;here  the  boys  can  have  gamegt 
on  rainy  days.  At  the  backof  the  barn  there  is 
to  be  a  little  kitchen  and  a  wash  room." 

"Who  is  to  choose  the  boys  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Hugh  has  given  the  names  of  six  who  are  to 
come  from  the  hospital,  and  mother  is  to  choose 
the  other  six,"  said  LarkiPo  "She  will  choose 
them  from  amongst  her  mission  school  children." 

"  When  are  they  coming  ?  "  asked  Fred. 

"Not  till  the  first  of  July.  There  is  a  good 
deal  to  be  done  first  and  those  who  go  to  school 
willnothavetheir  holidays  till  then.  I  shall  not 
be  here,"  added  Larkie,  "  but  I  can  help  mother 
in  town  to  get  the  children  ready." 

I 

We  thought  it  would  be  very  long  to  wait  till 
the  first  of  July,  but  really  we  hardly  had  time 
to  do  all  we  wanted  to.  We  hunted  up  all  the 
pretty  pictures  and  Christmas  cards  we  could, 
and  the  boys  decoruted  the  barn    sitting-room 


06 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


with  the  best  and  Peggy  and  T  made  the  rest 
into  scrap  books.  Even  C'hrista  helped  to  cut 
out,  and  Basil  picked  up  the  clippings.  We 
found  a  great  many  picture  books  too,  and 
mother  put  linen  covers  on  them.  Fred,  who  is 
clever  with  tools,  made  some  toy  boats,  and  he 
and  Larry  painted  and  rigged  them.  Mrs. 
Archer  cut  out  a  lot  of  wild  animals,  bears, 
tigers,  lions,  etc.,  and  stuffed  them,  and  Mrs. 
Clarke  had  a  hospital  for  mending  broken  toya. 
The  children  Hugh  had  chosen  were,  as  ho  had 
been,  not  very  strong,  and  we  wanted  to  have  lots 
of  things  to  amuse  them.  You  may  think  it  was 
pretty  hard  to  keep  on  at  our  lessons  till  the  24th 
of  June,  but  we  managed  to  do  it,  and  Fred  even 
got  a  prize,  of  which  he  was  yery  proud. 

The  visitors  were  expected  on  the  iirstof  July, 
and  on  the  afternoon  v^f  that  day  a  regular  pro- 
cession drove  down  to  the  station  to  meet  them. 
First  Captain  an.l  Mrs.  Ashley,  with  Hugh  and 
Basil  in  the  wagon,  and  then  followed  three  hay 
carts  with  big  straw  beds  laid  down  in  them, 
covered  with  clean  cotton  carpet  and  the  sides 
trimmed  with  green  boughs.  Peggy,  Christa, 
Fred,  Larry  and  I  drove  in  the  first  and  the 
other  two  were  empty,  ready  for  the  city  boys. 
We  had  only  been  at  the  station  a  few  minutes 
when  the  train  came  puffing  in  and  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Ashley  went  on  board  at  once  and  brought 


Our  Summer   Visitor  a. 


97 


out  the  twelve  boys.  The  two  smallest  were 
about  Hugh's  size  and  all  the  others  we  older, 
but  the  eldest  was  not  more  than  ten,  and  at  first 
we  were  disappointed  for  they  were  not  laugh- 
ing and  singing  and  shouting  as  we  were,  but 
looked  rather  frightened  and  most  of  them  were 
so  pale  and  thin  and  had  such  sad,  old  faces 
that  Peggy  and  I  could  hardly  keep  from  crying 
and  none  of  us  knew  what  to  say.  I  mean  no 
one  in  our  cart,  but  little  Hugh  knew  very  well. 
He  shook  hands  with  them  all  and  said,  "  I'm 
very  glad  to  have  you  here  to  see  me,"  and  Basil, 
who  likes  Lo  copy  Hugh  said,  "  Velly  dladdood 
boys  turn  to  see  me."  "  Here  are  Tod  and  Ted- 
dy, father,"  Hugh  went  on,  '  who  used  to  come 
and  see  me  when  I  lived  with  Mrs.  Morrison, 
and  this  is  Billy,  who  was  in  the  hospital  with  a 
broken  arm,  and  his  brother  Dick.  We're  just 
going  to  have  a  fine  time." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  boys,"  said  the  captain.  "  I 
want  to  have  your  photograph  taken  just  as  you 
stand."  So  that  was  done  and  then  they  were 
all  tucked  into  the  carts  and  we  started  for  the 
barn,  or  rather  as  Fred  insisted  on  calling  it,  the 
camp. 

Mrs.  Morrison,  who  was  to  cook  for  the  boys 
and  have  them  under  her  care,  was  standing  at 
the  door  with  her  two  little  girls  as  we  drove  up 
and  as  she  had  known  some  of  the  children  in 


08 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


J 


town  they  soon  felt  at  home  with  her.  Hugh. 
Fred  and  Larry  showed  them  all  over  the  barn, 
and  it  really  looked  very  pretty  with  all  the  pic- 
tures and  green  boughs  that  we  had  nailed  up. 
In  the  dining-room  a  long  table  was  spread  with 
flowered  crockery  and  ornamented  with  bouquets 
of  daisies  and  buttercups.  In  the  play-room 
there  were  two  or  three  smaller  tables  with 
picture  books  and  some  of  the  toys  laid  out 
on  them,  and  there  were  two  big,  old-fashioned 
sofas  that  made  the  room  look  very  cozy.  The 
loft  which  Fred  tried  to  make  us  call  the  dormi- 
tory looked  almost  the  nicest.  It  was  divided 
by  curtains  into  four  rooms,  each  holding 
three  camp  beds,  three  chairs  and  a  set  of  three 
shelves.  The  beds  were  covered  with  bright 
patchwork  quilts  and  a  pretty  picture  hung  a. 
the  head  of  each.  At  the  end  of  the  loft  a  door 
opened  into  the  two  rooms  above  the  stable  where 
Jerry,  Captain  Ashley's  man,  slept.  When 
they  had  seen  everything,  they  were  brought 
down  to  the  wash-room  to  bathe  their  hands  and 
faces,  and  were  just  through  when  the  tea-bell 
rang  and  they  all  filed  into  the  dining-room,  Hugh 
leading  the  way.  Mrs.  Morrison  had  a  lovely 
supper  ready  for  them,  country  bread  and  butter, 
rich  new  milk,  wild  strawberries  and  some  deli- 
cious seed  cookies  that  Mrs.  Brown  had  sent 
over. 


Our  Summer   Visitors. 


09 


It  would  fill  a  whole  book  to  tell.about  all  the 
good  times  those  boys  had  during  the  next 
month.  It  took  two  or  three  days  just  to  show 
them  all  the  wonders  inside  "bounds,"  as  Fred 
now  called  the  Ashley's  grounds.  There  were 
the  horses,  Bob  and  Charley,  who  worked  on 
the  farm ;  Black  Bess,  Captain  Ashley's  black 
mare,  and  Blonde,  Mrs.  Ashley's  bay  pony; 
Dapple,  the  big  spotted  cow,  and  Daisy,  the 
little  black  one,  with  their  calf  babies;  besides 
Keeper,  the  watch  dog,  and  Sylvie,  the  water 
spaniel.  There  were  the  chickens,  geese  and 
ducks;  the  turkey  gobblers,  the  proud  old  pea- 
cock, and  Hugh's  rabbits,  besides  the  sheep  and 
lambs  in  the  hill  pasture,  and  Sir  Joseph  Porter, 
the  big  black  ram.  Then  there  were  all  the 
pleasant  places,  the  trout  stream,  where  Hugh 
had  his  water  wheels,  the  duck  pond,  the 
flower  and  vegetable  gardens,  and  the  orchard 
where  we  all  had  our  favorite  seats  in  the  gnarly 
apple  trees.  But  best  of  all,  was  the  pine  grove 
at  the  back  of  the  barn.  It  was  always  cool 
there,  and  besides  two  big  swings  Captain  Ash- 
ley had  four  hammocks  slung,  and  in  a  cleared 
spot  there  a  long  table  and  benches,  and  three 
or  four  times  the  children  had  their  supper  out- 
doors. 

Hay-making  was   just  beginning  when  they 
came,  and  none  of  them  had  ever  seen  it  before. 


100 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


' 


Some  did  not  even  know  that  hay  was  made  of 
grass,  and  they  could  hardly  believe  till  they 
saw  it  that  the  sun  would  change  the  fresh 
green  grass  into  dry  brown  hay.  Even  to  see 
the  cows  milked  was  a  treat  to  them,  and  the 
first  time  that  Billy  Blake,  the  boy  who  had 
been  in  the  hospital,  found  a  nest  with  three 
warm  new  eggs  in  it,  he  just  trembled  with  joy, 
and  could  hardly  carry  them  in  to  Mrs.  Morrison. 
The  boys  weren't  allowed  to  go  out  of  bounds 
without  some  grown  person  with  them  and  per- 
mission from  Captain  Ashley,  but  twice  a  week 
he  arranged  to  have  someone  take  them  to  the 
beach  for  an  afternoon,  so  that  they  could  swim 
and  wade  and  play  in  the  sand  and  gather  shells 
and  pebbles  to  take  home.  Once  he  took  them 
all  with  Hugh,  Fred  and  Larry  for  a  sail  down 
the  river  in  a  schooner  to  a  curious  place  called 
Caliban's  cave.  Mrs.  Brown,  Mrs.  Ashley,  Mrs. 
Clarke  and  mother  all  treated  them  to  hay-cart 
drives  and  each  morning  and  afternoon  Mrs. 
Milligan  took  one  of  them  out  with  her  when  she 
drove  round  with  the  milk,  and  this  was  one  of 
their  greatest  treats,  especially  when  she  let 
them  drive  old  Dobbin.  Something  they  liked 
very  much  was  helping  with  Mrs.  Archer's 
flower  mission.  Every  Saturday  morning  she 
and  all  who  could  help  her  met  in  the  school- 
house  and  packed  baskets  of  wild   and   garden 


Our  Summer   Visitors. 


101 


1 


flowers,  which  they  sent  in  by  the  noon  train  to 
Larkie's  mother,  who  sent  them  that  same  after- 
noon, not  to  the  hospitals,  but  to  poor  people's 
houses,  especially  where  there  was  sickness 
or  trouble. 

There  were  not  many  rules  to  break.  The 
boys  had  to  be  in  their  places  at  meal  times  and 
in  bed  by  nine  o'clock.  No  fighting  was  allowed 
or  wrong  words,  and  they  each  had  to  do  an 
hour's  work  each  day,  weeding,  gathering  fruit, 
making  hay  or  helping  Jerry  in  any  way  he 
wished.  Each  boy  was  taught  to  make  his  own 
bed  and  after  meals  two  of  them  helped  Mrs. 
Morrison  to  carry  out  and  wash  up  the  dishes. 
Any  work  more  than  this  was  paid  for  and  some 
of  the  largest  boys  earned  three  or  four 
dollars  in  the  month.  From  nine  to  ten 
every  morning  many  of  the  boys  that  liked  had 
a  chance  to  study  a  little.  Mrs.  Ashley  was 
ready  to  help  them  at  that  time  and  two  or  three 
of  them  never  missed  a  day. 

Every  Sunday  the  Ashleys  brought  them  all  to 
church  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  afternoon 
they  had  Sunday  school  in  the  pine  grove.  It 
was  really  a  siory  school,  for  though  they  were 
taught  it  few  verges,  nearly  all  the  time  went  in 
telling  stories  out  of  the  Bible.  Mr.  Bonham 
always  came  and  had  a  little  talk  with  the  boys 
and    then   they  sang  hymns   for   half    an   hour. 


^^ 


102 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


fji': 


The  rest  of  the  day  they  spent  as  they  liked,  but 
no  one  was  allowed  to  go  out  of  bounds.  There 
were  only  five  rainy  days  and  the  boys  hardly 
minded  them,  because  they  found  somany  pleas- 
sant  things  to  do  indoors.  The  toys  and  games 
and  picture  books  were  brought  out  then  and  one 
wet  afternoon  Mr.  Archer  brought  his  Mother 
Goose  magic  lantern  and  showed  them  "Little 
Boy  Blue,"  "  Jack  Horner,"  "  Mistress  Mary," 
"•  Miss  Muffet,"  "  Bopeep"  and  all  the  rest,  and 
as  each  picture  was  shown  Fred  recited  the  rhyme. 
Another  rainy  day  Larry  came.  He  had  a  very 
red  face  from  carrying  »  heavy  jar.  It  held  a 
gallon  of  molasses,  which  he  had  bought  with 
money  he  had  earned  himself  and  he  coaxed  Mrs. 
Morrison  to  let  them  have  a  grand  candy  pull, 
and  Fred,  who  was  there,  enjoyed  it  as  much  as 
anyone. 

Fred  and  Larry  were  allowed  to  play  with 
the  boys  as  they  liked,  but  Peggy,  Christa  and  I 
only  went  down  to  see  them  with  our  mothsrs  or 
when  there  was  som'^thing  particular  like  the 
magic  lantern.  It  was  funny  to  see  the  boys 
looking  at  Christa.  They  seemed  to  think  her  a 
fairy  or  an  angel  or  something  of  the  kind,  and 
I  didn't  wonder,  for  she  always  wears  white  and 
has  such  sliining  eyes  and  curls. 

But  the  last  day  came  and  the  hay  carts  once 
more  drove  up  to  the  barn  to  take  the  children 


Our  Summer   Visitors. 


103 


back  to  the  station.  But  they  did  not  look  like 
the  same  children.  They  were  all  brown  and  rosy 
now,  and  some  of  them  h-^d  grown  quite  stout 
and  they  laughed  and  shouted  just  as  we  did. 
They  all  had  parcels,  too,  the  toys  which  had 
been  divided  amongst  them  and  things  that  they 
had  gathered  in  the  woods  and  on  the  beach,  and 
Mrs.  Brown  had  given  each  a  bag  of  cookies. 

Captain  Ashley  had  them  photographed  again 
just  as  they  stood  when  they  came  out  of  the 
barn,  and  then  they  piled  into  the  hay  carts  and 
we  all  drove  down  with  them.  While  they 
waited  at  the  station  they  gave  cheers  for  C'aptain 
and  Mrs.  Ashley,  for  Hugh  and  Mrs.  Morrison 
and  Meadowhurst.  Then  the  train  came  in  and 
Captain  Ashley  to^  k  them  all  on  board.  "  Good 
l^yf*  goodbye!"  we  all  shouted.  '*Tum  aden  ! 
turn  aden  !  dood  boys,"  Basil  called  out,  and  then 
the  train  rolled  away  and  was  soon  out  of  sight 
round  the  curve. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  ROCK. 


I 


L  ■  R 


On  a  sunny  afternoon  in  late  August  petit 
Jean  Labranche  and  his  sister,  petite  Marie, 
were  playing  on  the  beach  at  St.  Isaie.  They 
played  there  every  day,  for  though  Jean,  a  dark- 
eyed,  dark-skinned,  thoughtful  looking  lad  was 
but  seven  years  old,  and  petite  Marie  a  p]ump,  fair 
child  with  long,  light  hair  and  soft  gray  eyes, 
scarcely  five,  grandmere  always  felt  that  they 
were  quite  safe  when  on  the  beach,  which  was 
flat  and  sandy  and  sloped  so  gradually  that  when 
at  high  water  the  village  children  went  in  to 
bathe,  tney  had  to  wade  a  long  way  from  shore  to 
get  even  waist  deep.  There  were  no  steep  rocks 
off  which  little  ones  might  slip  into  deep  water 
and  no  poisonous  growth  of  any  kind  on  the 
beach.  So  the  children  played  there  for  hours 
every  day,  sometimes  in  and  sometimes  out  of 
the  water.  They  had  scores  of  plays.  Some- 
times they  dug  wells  in  the  sand,  which  the 
incoming  tide  would  fill  with  water,  or  planted 
Gardens  of  Eden,  such  as  good  M.  le  Cure  had 
told  them  of,  and  in  which  a  large  black  stone 


104 


The  Childrv.n^s  Jiock. 


105 


represented  Adam  and  a  slender,  white  one,  Eve, 
while  a  long  dulse  luil  did  duty  as  the  serpent. 

It  did  not  matter  that  he  was  generally  longer 
than  the  garden.  The  larger  wickedness  he  repre- 
sented. At  least  Ihis  was  petit  Jean's  idea,  and 
petite  Marie,  who  did  not  yet  go  to  catechism  her- 
self, devoutly  believed  all  that  he  told  her.  The 
tree  in  the  middle  of  the  gardt;  bore  all  manner 
of  fruits,  according  to  the  season.  On  this 
afternoon  the  seductive  serpent  was  offering  a 
bunch  of  choke-  cherries  to  Eve.  Another  fav- 
orite play  was  keeping  shop.  On  a  large,  flat 
stone  they  would  spread  their  wares,  shells,  sand, 
berries,  flowers  and  marbles,  which  petit  Jean 
made  out  of  the  clay  to  be  found  at  low  tide. 
Again  they  tried  their  hand  at  modeling  cups  and 
saucers,  which  they  dried  in  the  sun  and  Jean 
had  made  a  bowl  which  truly  would  hold  water. 

But  the  children  did  not  spend  all  their  time 
in  play.  Every  morning  pet'*^  Jean  wheeled  the 
strong  little  cart,  that  was  his  greatest  treasure, 
down  to  the  beach  and  brought  home  two  or 
three  loads  of  drift  wood,  while  petite  Marie, 
trotting  beside  him,  filled  her  little  basket  with 
chips,  so  that  in  summer  grandmcre  needed  no 
other  fuel  than  that  sent  her  by  the  sea.  Many 
an  hour,  too,  the  children  spent  gathering  the 
delicate  little  shells,  pale  pink,  blue,  yellow,  or 
pure  white,   to   be   found  in   abundance  in    the 


106 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


sand,  and  with  which  grandmere  decorated  th»» 
picture  frames  and  boxes  by  the  sale  of  wh 
she  gained  a  little  money.  And  when  at  low 
tide,  Pere  Marcotte  visited  his  fishery  Jean 
would  help  to  carry  the  fish  home,  gladly  taking 
in  payment  a  bowl  of  silvery  smelts  or  pale 
green  sardines. 

Every  Sunday  Jean  and  Marie  went  to  mass 
with  grandmere  and  when  the  service  was  over 
passed  into  the  cemetery  at  the  side  of  the 
church,  and  walked  to  the  low,  green  mound, 
beneath  which  they  had  always  been  told  that 
their  parents  and  baby  sister  slept  in  the  care  of 
the  good  God.  Only  a  plain  black  cross  marked 
the  spot,  but  each  Sunday  the  children  strewed 
the  grave  with  fresh  flowers.  Petite  Marie  could 
not  remember  her  parents  at  all,  but  petit  Jean 
had  never  forgotten  the  sad  September  day 
nearly  three  years  ago,  when  brave  papa  went  off 
alone  in  his  boat  to  fetch  the  doctor  for  maman, 
who  was  ill,  and  returned  to  them  no  more. 
A  ftarful  storm  had  broken  shortly  after  he  left 
and  it  was  supposed  that  his  little  boat  had  been 
swamped  amd  sunk.  Two  days  later  his  body 
had  drifted  in  at  L'Esperance,  nine  miles  lower 
down,  and  been  brought  back  to  them  by  the 
kindly  people  of  that  parish.  And  maman,  who 
lay  in  her  bed  with  a  tiny  baby  girl  beside  her, 
had  not  even  wept  when  they  told  her  the   sad 


[ 


The  Child  ten's  Hock. 


107 


news.  She  only  asked  granclmere  to  bring  Jean 
and  Marie  to  her  bedside,  and  she  had  kissed  them 
and  stroked  their  hair  and  bade  petit  Jean  to 
always  remember  dear  papa,  and  how  kind  and 
brave  and  honest  he  had  been,  and  to  love  and 
obey  grandinere,  and  help  her  care  for  petite 
Marie.  Then  Marie  got  sleepy  and  grandmere 
carried  her  away  and  Jean  sat  alone  with  maman 
holding  her  thin  hand  in  his  little  brown  one, 
and  resting  his  dark  curls  against  her  soft  cheek. 
In  the  next  room  grandmere  was  softly  singing: 
*  Z):r«,  Bebe^  dora^fermez  tez  beaux-  y tux -, 
Dors,  Bebe,  dors,  dormons  tons  les  deux, 
and  as  she  sang  petit  Jean,  too,  became  sleepy 
and  nestled  closer  to  his  mother,  who,  tighten- 
ing her  clasp  on  his  hand,  softly  joined  in 
grandmere' s  lullaby.  Dors,  Bebe  dors,  dormons 
tons  les  deux,  and  so  they  both  fell  asleep;  but 
with  maman  it  was  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking,  and  two  days  later  she  and  papa  were 
laid  in  the  same  grave,  which  before  long, 
opened  to  receive  Rose  Blanche,  the  wee  baby 
whom  all  grandmere's  care  had  not  been  able  to 
keep  alive. 

What  Jean  best  remembered  after  this  was 
the  house  being  full  of  neighbors,  who  took 
away  with  them  beds,  tables,  chairs  and  many 
other  things,  so  that  the  pretty  home  looked  big 
find  bare,     3ut  th^t  did  not  much  matter,   for 


\ll 


[\  i  ::f 


108 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


the  next  day  they  moved  to  the  little  red-roofed 
cottage  by  the  beach.  He  was  sorry  though 
when  some  one  came  and  took  away  their  cow 
and  pig  and  chickens,  t^nd  could  not  quite 
understand  why  grandmere  should  let  them  do 
it  even  though  they  gave  her  pre  ty  silver  money 
instead.  But  she  told  him  that  now  brave  papa 
was  gone,  she  needed  money  to  buy  food 
and  clothes  for  him  and  Marie,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  many  things  helped  to  make  him 
understand  that  now  they  were  poor.  Grand- 
mere,  who  used  to  sit  in  her  chaise  berceuse  and 
nurse  petite  Marie  or  tell  him  stories  while  she 
knitted  warm  stockings  and  mittens,  now  was 
glad  to  go  and  wash  and  scrub  for  the  village 
people.  And  when  sh;i  car^  home  tired  at 
night  she  must  make  their  menage,  wash  and 
sew  and  cook  for  him  and  Marie.  When  other 
work  failed  she  went  into  the  woods  and  dug  up 
roots  or  gathered  herbs  for  which  le  Doctor 
Belleau  paid  her  a  small  sum.  She  was  always 
working,  and  yet  it  was  becoming  plain  even  to 
petit  Jean  that  all  her  earning-*  barely  sufficed 
to  pay  for  their  daily  needs.  He  longed  to  help 
her,  and  at  the  time  our  story  opens  had  already 
turned  over  many  plans  in  his  mind. 

He  and  Marie  had  been  gathering  shells  all 
afternoon,  and  now  their  little  basket  was  full 
and  they  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  a  tall  boulder 


I 


The  Children's  Bock. 


109 


to  rest.  There  were  many  boulders  on  the 
beach,  and  petit  Jean  had  often  seen  the  sum- 
mer visitors  to  St.  Isaie  chip  off  little  pieces 
with  hammers  and  carry  them  carefully  away. 
Xavier,  the  schoolmaster's  son,  had  told  him 
these  were  taken  to  the  great  city  far  away,  and 
sold  for  money.  One  immense  boulder,  how- 
ever, they  could  never  reach,  for  it  stood  so  far 
out  that  at  dead  low  water  it  was  still  far 
beyond  wading  distance,  while  at  high  tide  only 
the  top,  shaped  something  like  a  castle,  could 
be  seen.  About  this  boulder  Xavier,  who  had 
an  oriental  imagination,  had  told  petit  Jean  many 
wonderful  stories.  It  was  said  to  be  sparkling 
all  over  with  garnets.  His  own  uncle  had  gone 
out  and  broken  off  a  piece  which  be  had  sold  for 
— Xavier  was  not  sure  how  much,  but  the  oftener 
he  told  the  story  the  larger  the  sum  grew,  and 
at  present  it  was  ten  good  piastres.  Ten  good 
piastres!  What  a  sum  that  seemed  to  petit 
Jean,  all  whose  purchases  were  made  with  sous. 
And  there  were  a  hundred  sous  in  one  piastre. 
What  might  he  not  buy  for  grandmere  with  ten? 
For  weeks  he  had  brooded  over  the  idea  of  going 
out  to  the  rock  himself,  but  dreaded  to  ask  grand- 
mere's  permission,  lest  she  might  refuse  it. 
On  this  afternoon,  as  he  sat  looking  at  the  boul- 
der, the  desire  to  go  so  possessed  him  that  he  felt 
he  must  speakof  it  if  but  to  petite  Marie,  '  'Petite 


110 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


Marie,"  said  he,  "dost  thou  know  that  grand- 
mere  is  very  poor?"  "But  yes,"  said  Marie, 
who  had  all  a  little  French  girl's  instinct  for 
dress,  "  her  shawl  is  faded  and  her  robe  for 
Sunday  has  been  mended  many  times.  It  is  not 
like  the  fine  robe  of  Mme.  Paquin." 

"No,"  said  Jean,  '*  and,  oh,  petite  Marie, 
ihou  and  I,  we  have  milk  with  our  bread,  but 
grandmere  eats  hers  dry,  and  she  works  when 
she  is  tired  and  while  w*-  sleep,  and  it  makes 
me  sad  here,"  and  petit  Jean  put  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  "for  if  brave  papa  had  lived  he 
would  have  taken  care  of  her  and  made  her  happy, 
and  now  she  must  work  hard,  not  only  for  herself, 
but  for  thee  and  for  me.  Oh,  little  sister,  if 
I  had  money  I  would  buy  her  a  Sunday  robe  and 
a  shawl  and  shoes." 

"  And  I  should  buy  her  a  bonnet,"  said  Ma- 
rie, "for  truly,  Jean,  it  is  of  an  ugliness  that 
which  she  wears." 

"  And  she  should  have  a  fauteuil,"  continued 
Jean,  "and  rest  all  day,  andoldThcrcs?  should 
come  and  make  the  menage." 

"And  we  would  go  to  the  magasin  and  buy 
her  tea,  and  sugar,  and  butter,  and  tirop,  and 
galette,"  said  Marie,  whose  imagination  could 
go  no  further;  "but,  oh,  Jean,  where  can  we 
get  money?" 

"  Dost  thou  see  the   big  rock   out  there,  per 


The  Children's  Bock. 


HI 


tite  Marie?"  said  Jean.  "  Xavier  has  told  me 
that  it  is  sparkling  all  over  with  precious  stones, 
and  if  I  could  go  out  and  break  off  a  piece,  I 
might  sell  it  for  ten  good  piastres,  as  did  the 
Uncle  Barbeau  ;  and  see,  there  is  Pere  Marcotte's 
boat,  and  the  sea  is  rising  now  and  is  as  smooth 
as  glass." 

''And  there  is  a  hammer  in  the  boat,"  said 
Marie,  her  eyes  sparkling,  *'  for  Pere  left  it 
there  after  he  mended  his  fishery  this  morning. 
Oh,  Jean,  let  us  go  out." 

"  Nay,  little  sister,"  said  Jean,  "  thou  must 
stay  here.  Grandmere  might  let  me  go,  for  I 
have  often  pulled  the  boat  out  to  the  fishery, 
but  thou  hast  never  been  in  it,  and  I  dare  not 
take  thee  without  leave." 

"But  I  will  go,"  said  Marie;  "  thou  shalt 
not  leave  me  here  alone,  Jean,"  and  her  soft 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  Jean  hesitated.  He 
felt  that  grandmere  might  not  even  let  him  go, 
much  less  Marie,  but  he  could  not  bear  to  see 
his  little  sister  cry,  and  otherwise  he  would  not 
feel  safe  to  leave  her  alone,  and  old  Catherine, 
who  kept  house  for  M.  le  Cure,  and  often  gave 
grandmere  work,  had  come  down  for  her  that 
afternoon  and  Jean  knew  she  would  not  be 
home  before  6  o'clock.  He  felt  sure  that  he 
could  care  for  his  little  sister,  so,  after  a  mo- 
ment's indecision,    he   helped   uer  into  the  boat 


)er 


j 


<  I. 


!i 


n\i 


112 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


and  they  were  soon  paddling  out  into  the  river. 

Jean  rowed  well  for  such  a  little  fellow,  but 
the  distance  to  the  boulder  was  very  much 
greater  than  he  had  imagined,  and  before  he 
reached  it  the  angelus  was  ringing,  but  out  on 
the  water  the  children  did  not  hear  it. 
****** 

The  boulder  on  the  side  which  faced  the 
shore  was  almost  perpendicular,  but  rowing 
round  to  the  other  side  Jean  found  that  it  sloped 
gradually  to  the  water  in  a  succession  of  ridges, 
which  gave  it  something  the  appearance  of  a 
rugged  staircase.  He  landed  without  difficulty, 
and  carefully  helped  Marie  to  get  out,  then  fas- 
tening the  boat  rope  to  a  spur  of  rock,  the  chil- 
dren climbed  to  the  top  of  the  boulder,  which 
to  their  surprise  they  found  sunk  down  in  a 
hollow,  in  which  they  could  stand  as  in  a  stone 
pulpit.  This  hollow  was  large  enough  to  con- 
tain three  or  four  people,  and  so  deep  that  Ma- 
rie's sunny  head  could  hardly  be  seen  as  she 
and  Jean  stood  in  it,  curiously  examining  its 
sides  in  hope  of  seeing  some  spur  of  rock  off 
which  a  piece  might  possibly  be  chipped. 
There  were  several,  and  they  did  seem  to  be 
sparkling  with  something,  and  Jean  hammered 
away  vigorously  with  Pcre  Marcotte's  hammer 
till  he  finally  succeeded  in  breaking  off  a  good- 
sized  piece. 


•^ 

'       ''^s 


The  Children  s  Ji<jch\ 


llli 


■^- 


"Oh,  Jean,"  said  Marie  at  this  moment,  as 
she  peered  over  the  side  of  the  hoiilder,  "what 
shall  we  do?  Fere  Mareotte's  boat  is  j^one 
and  is  drifting,  but  drifting  fast  up  the  river, 
and  he  will  be  so  anj^ry  if  his  boat  is  lost,  aid 
our  shells  are  in  the  boat,  Jean,  and  my  enn- 
bonnet,  too." 

Jean  eagerly  turned  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  Marie,  and  there  indeed,  was  the  Ijoat, 
which  had  become  unfastened  with  the  rising 
tide,  and  was  already  at  some  distance  from 
the  boulder. 


;  H 


PART    II. 

When  Jean  saw  tie  boat  drifting  away,  he 
gave  a  cry  of  despair  and  wrung  his  little  hands. 
Its  loss  and  the  anger  of  their  somewhat  surly 
old  neighbor  would  indeed  be  a  serious  matter ; 
but  the  dreadful  truth  that  at  once  flashed  upon 
him,  was  that  he  and  petite  Marie  had  now  no 
means  of  return — that  they  stood  alone  on  the 
boulder  with  the  tide  rapidly  rising  and  night 
coming  on.  Indeed  it  was  already  dusk,  and  a 
thick  fog  rising  which  he  knew  would  make  it 
impossible  for  them  to  be  seen  by  anyone  from 
the  shore.  Jean  would  not  cry,  but  he  couiJ 
not  help  his  voice  trembling  as  he  said:  "Yes, 
the  boat  has  gone,  Marie,  and  we  must  wait 
here  till  some  one  comes  to  look  for  us." 

"  Will  they  come  soon?"  asked  Marie. 

*' I  do  not  know,  little  sister,"  eaid  Jean. 
'Perhaps  not  very  soon  because  they  do  not 
know  that  we  are  here,  but  we  will  call  as  loud 
as  we  can  and  they  may  hear  us." 

He  had  no  hope  of  this  himself,  but  knew 
that  the  idea  would  divert  Marie  and,  while  me- 
chanically shouting  with  her,  made  up  his  child- 
ish mind  to  hide  his  worst  fears  from  the   little 

114 


The  Children\s  Hock 


115 


one  whom  he  had  promised  maman  to  care  for. 
He  would  do  his  best  to  protect  and  oomfort 
her  till  help  should  come.  But  as  he  looked  at 
the  rising  tide  he  shuddered.  It  rose  he  knew 
almost  to  the  height  of  the  boulder,  and  in  high 
tide  completely  over  it,  in  which  case  the  water 
would  pour  into  the  hollow  where  he  and  Marie 
were  standing — but  he  would  not  think  of  that. 
If  it  were  not  a  high  tide  he  and  petite  Marie 
would  be  safe  in  their  rocky  hollow  till  day- 
light, when  he  would  surely  be  able  to  signal  to 
some  one  on  shore. 

"You  are  not  calling,  Jean,"  said  Marie, 
"and  I  want  someone  to  come.  I  am  hungry 
and  I  want  to  see   grandmere." 

"Be  patient,  little  one,"  said  Jean.  "There 
is,  perhaps,  no  one  on  the  beach  to  hear  us,  but 
while  we  wait  we  will  play  that  this  is  our  boat 
and  that  we  are  sailing  to  Cap  dcs  Oiseaux, 
and — see,  Marie,  here  is  supper,"  and  Jean 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  good  sized  cake  v)f  pain 
d'cpice  which  old  Catherine  had  given  him 
when  she  came  to  seek  grandmere,  and  which 
he  had  saved  to  share  with  Marie  when  at  plu}'. 

"  And  I  have  blueberries  in  my  little  pail," 
said  Marie,  and  for  a  short  time  she  was  di- 
verted and  happy;  but  the  brief  twilight  of  late 
summer  was  soon  over,  and  as  darkness  gath- 
ered about   them,    a  feeling  of   desolation   that 


116 


MeacJowhvrst  Children. 


\ 


I,  J     ■   ! 


she  could  not  describe,  came  over  the  little  one, 
and  to  Jean's  despair  she  iMirst  into  tears,  sob- 
bing pitifully. 

"  Oh  Jean,  I  like  it  not  here.  I  want  to  go 
home;  I  want  to  go  to  bed;  I  want  grandmere." 

"  Thou  art  sleepy,  little  sister,"  said  Jean. 
"  Lie  down  and  I  will  cover  thee  with  my  blouse 
and  sing  to  thee  as  grandmere  does,  and  I  shall 
stay  awake  and  watch  so  a";  to  wake  thee  up 
when  some  one  comes.'' 

"  But  I  am  afraid  to  sleep  here,  Jean,"  said 
Marie,  "the  sky  is  so  far  away,  and  the  water 
is  so  black  and  it  is  so  lonely.  Can  le  hon  Dleu 
see  us  here,  Jean?" 

"  But  yes,  dear  little  one,"  said  Jean.  '*  M. 
le  Cure  has  often  told  me  that  He  is  always 
with  us  and  He  can  see  us  and  love  us  and  care 
for  us  here  just  as  at  home.  It  is  His  sky  that 
is  over  us, and  His  waves  that  are  around  us;"  and 
though  here  petite  Jean's  voice  trembled  a  little, 
his  hands  were  steady  as  he  wrapped  Marie  up 
warmly  in  his  jacket  and  stroked  her  fair  hair 
gently  while  he  sang  the  little  hymn  asking 
God's  blessing,  which  he  and  brave  pupa  before 
him  had  learned  at  grandmere's  knee;  but  his 
voice  would  (luaver  and  at  the  verse: 

•'  Pour  <iuo  la  route  suivie 
Tot  ra  tard  me  mene  au  port, 
Reniggez-moi  dans  la  vie, 
Renisse/.-moi  dans  la  inort," 


The  Children's  Rock 


117 


he  broke  down  for  a  minute,  but  Miirie  mur- 
mured sleepily,  "Sing  on,  dear  Jean,"  and 
with  a  supreme  effort  he  continued: 

Soit(iu'un  prompt  trepas  m'enleve. 
Soit  (jue  mon  destin  s'acheve 
Dana  I'ordre  de  vos  desseins, 
J'lrai  chanter  vos  louanges, 
Jeuiie  ,  au  milieu  de  vos  anges. 
Vieux  au  mil'.eii  de  vos  saints." 

And  now  petite  Marie  was  fast  asleep.  The  tide 
would  be  high  about  9  o'clock  and  Jean  thought 
it  must  be  nearly  that  now,  so  as  gently  as  pos- 
sible withdrawing  himself  from  Marie  he  stood 
up  and  found  that  the  water  had  nearly  reached 
the  top  of  the  boulder.  Would  it  rise  any 
higher?  He  watched  intently.  Yes,  it  was 
still  mounting.  He  let  his  hand  droop  over  the 
water  with  his  fingers  just  above  it  and  soon  felt 
its  cold  touch.  Now  it  was  not  more  than  four 
inches  from  the  top  of  the  boulder  and  petit 
Jean  straightened  himself  and  spread  his  arms 
along  the  ledge  in  a  last  effort  to  protect  his 
little  sister.  He  looked  steadily  at  the  dark 
water  and  murmured  softly: 

".I'irai  fhanter  vos  louanges, 
.leune,  au  milieu  de  vos  anges." 

And  now  the  water  had  risen  an  inch  more  and 

had  not    the    sea    been    like    glass   would   have 

washed  over.     A  faint ncss  ciinie  over  Jean  and 

he  sank  down  on  the  rocky  lloor.     He  was  not 

frightened  at  that  moment.     He  could  never  tell 

what  he  felt.     It  was  awful,  it  was   wonderful 


tlf 


■p 


^1 


r       :' 


118 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


to  be  alone  here  with  God  and  Marie  and  just  a 
stone  circle  a  few  inches  wide  preventing  the 
wide  waters  from  rushing  in  on  them.  He 
seemed  for  a  short  time  to  lose  consciousness  of 
everything  but  immensity — a  sort  of  greatness 
that  overpowered  and  yet  upheld  him.  How 
long  this  lasted  he  knew  not,  but  Marie  stirred 
in  her  sleep  and  the  spell  was  broken.  He 
started  to  his  feet  and  droppei  his  hand  over 
the  edge  of  the  boulder.  He  could  not  touch 
the  water,  the  tide  had  turned ! 

And  now  Petit  Jean  could  pray.  He 
thanked  the  good  God  and  begged  his  protection 
and  succor,  and  he  prayed  for  grandmere,  too. 
Dear,  old  grandmere,  who  he  felt  sure  would  be 
watching  and  waiting  and  praying  for  them. 
How  wrong  he  had  been  to  come  away  without 
her  permission.  How  wrong  and  how  foolish. 
He  realized  this  as  he  sat  nestled  down  in  the 
dark  by  Marie.  But  grandmere  should  never 
again  be  anxious  on  his  account.  He  would 
help  her  by  obeying  her,  and  wait  patiently  till 
God  made  him  strong  enough  really  to  work  for 
her.  Jean  had  meant  to  watch  all  night,  but 
worn  out  with  fatigue,  excitement  and  hunger — 
for  he  had  only  feigned  to  taste  the  cake — his 
eyes  began  to  close,  and  fearing  that  he  might 
be  overpowered  by  sleep  he  tried  to  think  of 
gonie  signal   that   he  could   hang  out  from   the 


The  Children's  Ttock. 


110 


rock  to  let  those  who  he  felt  sure  would  come  to 
seek  them  know  that  they  were  there.  Turning 
out  his  pockets  he  came  to  a  fishing  line,  to  one 
end  of  which  he  tied  his  little  red  cloth  cap, 
and  letting  it  hang  over  the  boulder  on  the  shore- 
ward side,  he  fastened  the  othor  end  firmly 
round  his  wrist, and  then  sinking  down  by  Marie 
was  soon  fast  asleep. 

Meantime  the  excitement  on  shore  had  been 
great  when  it  became  known  that  the  grand- 
children of  good  old  Mere  Labranche  were  mis- 
sing. She  had  returned  from  the  presbytery  at 
6  o'clock,  and  though  eom<  what  surprised  that 
the  children  had  not  come  in  from  their  play, 
was  not  at  first  alarmed,  and  set  to  work 
to  prepare  their  simple  evening  meal.  Then 
beginning  to  feel  uneasy,  she  started  out  and 
walked  some  distance  down  the  beach,  and 
again  in  the  opposite  direction.  She  next 
sought  them  at  the  house  of  the  only  near 
neighbor,  Pere  Marcotte,  an  old  fisherman 
who  lived  all  alone  in  a  hut  on  the  beach,  but 
the  place  was  shut  up,  Pere  Marcotte  having 
gone  to  pass  the  night  with  his  son  at  L'Esper- 
ance.  Thoroughly  frightened,  the  poor  old 
woman  returned  to  the  presbytery  and  told  her 
trouble  to  the  kind  old  priest.  He  suggested 
inquiries  at  the  village  postottice,  school  house 
and    hotel    as    well    as  the    principal  shop,  and 


:. 


:!■ 


1;.,) 


Middowhnrst  Children . 


himself  accompanied  grardmere;  but  nothing 
could  be  heard  of  the  missing  children,  and  he 
returned  with  her  to  the  beach,  followed  by  a 
number  of  kind-hearted  men  who  had  volun- 
teered to  assist  in  the  search,  but  were  soon 
obliged  to  abandon  it  on  account  of  the  gather- 
ing darknes!».  As  they  stood  on  the  shore  look- 
ing out  over  the  lonely  waters  a  small  black 
object  was  seen  coming  in  with  the  tide,  and 
soon  they  made  this  out  to  be  a  boat — yes, 
surely,  old  Pere  Marcotte's  boat.  One  of  the 
men  waded  out  into  the  water  and,  seizing  the 
rope,  drew  the  little  craft  ashore.  It  was  indeed 
Pcre  Marcotte's  boat,  and  in  the  stern  they 
found  the  children's  basket  of  shells  and  petite 
Marie's  blue  sunbonnet.  Grandmere  reeled  and 
would  have  fallen,  but  the  kind  old  cure  sup- 
ported her,  and  with  the  help  of  Maitre  Paquin, 
the  schoolmaster,  brought  her  tenderly  to  her 
home,  where  several  of  the  village  women,  in- 
cluding old  Catherine,  ottered  to  remain  with 
her  during  the  night.  There  was  but  little 
doubt  in  anyone's  mind  that  the  children  had 
been  drowned,  neverthehss  they  all  tried  to 
cheer  and  encourage  grandmere,  while  the  men 
agreed  to  go  out  with  the  earliest  light  and 
coast  along  the  beach  for  some  miles  in  either 
direction. 

So  it  was  not  much  after  four  in  the  morning 


The  Ctdldren^s  Rock. 


121 


when  Maitre  Paquin  and  Xavier  rolled  Pcre 
Marcotte's  boat  down  the  beach  and  got  her 
afloat.  They  went  up  with  the  rising  tide  and 
in  about  ten  minutes  found  themselves  opposite 
the  boulder  against  the  side  of  which  the  little 
red  cap  could  be  plainly  seer..  Xavier  spied  it 
first.  "Oh,  papa,"  he  cried,  "I  see  little  Jean's- 
cap,  his  red  cap  which  makes  us  laugh  at  him 
and  call  him  bonnet  rouge.  Look,  papa,  right 
against   the    rock." 

Maitre  Paquin  crossed  himself.  "  It  is  truly 
p'tit  Jean's  cap  and  must  have  drifted  on  to 
the  rock.  The  poor  little  ones  are  undoubtedly 
drowned !" 

"But  no,  papa,'"  said  Xavier  excitedly,  "  it 
has  not  drifted  there.  It  could  not  rest  on  the 
steep  rock.  It  is  held  there.  Oh,  papa!  pull 
quickly." 

Xavier  was  trembling  so  with  excitement  that 
he  could  hardly  hold  his  oar,  but  with  a  few 
strong  strokes  Maitre  Paejuin  brought  the  boat 
up  to  the  boulder  and  round  to  the  sloping  side 
where,  having  landed,  they  climbed  quickly  up 
and  found  the  little  brother  and  sister  asleep  in 
each  other's  arms. 

"This  is  our  boat,"  said  petite  Marie,  who 
was  the  first  to  wake  when  their  names  were 
called,  "and  we  have  been  sailing  to  Cap  Des 
Oiseaux,  and  we  had  supper  in  our  boat,  and  I 


122 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


U 


did  not  like  the  dark,  but  Jean  sang  to  me;  and 
Pere  Marcotte's  boat  went  away,  but  he  must 
not  scold  Jean,  for  it  was  the  tide  that  did  it, 
and  my  sunbonnet  is  lost,  but  grandmere  will 
make  me  another." 

They  were  in  the  boat  by  this  time.  Petit 
Jean  brought  his  piece  of  rock  but  was  greatly 
disappointed  to  learn  from  Maitre  Paquin  that 
by  itself  it  was  valueless  though  a  fair  price  had 
really  once  been  paid  to  his  brother  for  a  collec- 
tion of  specimens  of  the  rocks  at  St.  Isaie.  But 
now  they  had  reached  shore  and  in  five  minutes 
more  were  in  grandmcre's  arms,  petite  Marie 
prattling  gaily  of  her  adventures  while  petit 
Jean  sobbed  out  his  grief  for  the  pain  he  had 
caused.  "But  cry  not,  good  brother,"  said 
Marie,  "the  boat  is  found  and  our  shells  and 
my  bonnet,  and  Catherine  is  making  us  hot 
bread  and  milk."  But  Jean  continuing  to  sob 
and  cling  to  grandmere,  she  added  coaxingly: 
"See,  1  will  give  thee  my  pretty  stone,"  and 
she  drew  from  her  pocket  a  lovely  pale  pink 
transparent  stone,  relined  with  deep  red  and  as 
large  as  a  pigeon's  egg.  The  neighbors  crowded 
round  and  examined  it  eagerly.  "It  is  an 
agate,"  said  Maitre  Paquin,  "and  finer  than  the 
agate  of  Bale  des  Anges  which  was  sold  for 
twenty-five  piastres.  Where  did'st  get  it, 
petite  Marie?  " 


Ill  Grandma's  Arms  Once  More. 


it, 


■i 


i 


i 


The  Children'' s   Jtock 


128 


: 


"Amongst  the  pebbles  by  the  big  stone  wliprc 
Jean  and  I  have  have  our  shop.  I  found  it 
when  digging  a  well  and  put  it  in  my  pocket  to 
give  Jean  on  his  fete  which  is  next  Sunday,  but 
he  may  have  it  now  if  he  will  cry  no  more." 

But  little  Jean,  who,  besides  being  over- 
wrought, had  taken  a  slight  chill,  w^as  now  both 
shivering  and  sobbing,  and  old  Catherine  would 
allow  no  more  talking,  but  insisted  that  after 
he  had  taken  his  bowl  of  hot  bread  and  ni'lk  he 
should  go  to  bed  at  once,  and  also  grandmcre, 
who  had  not  slept  all  night.  When  they  were 
at  length  quietly  sleeping,  old  Catherine  re- 
turned to  the  presbytery,  taking  petite  Marie's 
stone  with  her  to  be  examined  by  M.  le  Cure, 
who  pronounced  it  at  once  to  be  a  rare  and 
unusually  perfect  agate, and  having  learnedthat 
Jean  would  gladly  part  with  it  for  grandmere's 
benefit,  he  succeeded  in  disposing  of  it  for  $85; 
and  the  children  had  the  joy  of  providing  their 
beloved  graudmere  not  only  with  the  comforts  of 
which  they  had  dreamed,  even  to  the  sirop  and 
galette,  but  also  of  buying  her  a  cow,  whose 
milk,  besides  furnishing  them  with  a  large  part 
of  their  living,  brought  in  (juite  a  little  reve- 
nue, and  grandnu're  no  longer  needed  to  work 
so  hard. 

No  agate  had  ever  been  found  befcjreatSl. 
Isaie,  nor,  though  agate-hunting  raged  for  some 


124 


Meadowhursf  Children, 


■ti 

■ 
s 

i 


!' 


i 


time  afterwards  amongst  the  village  boys,  was 
any  other  discovered.  Kut  the  story  of  petite 
Marie's  wonderful  find  is  still  related,  along  with 
that  of  the  children's  night  on  the  boulder, 
which,  nameless  before,  is  now  pointed  out  as 
"  Le  Kochcr  au\  Petits  Enfants,"  or  the  chil- 
dren's rock. 

*         It         *         *         *         * 

*Translationof  MonPere,  Benis8ez-Moi. 

And  as  the  ordered  way, 

Or  soon  or  late  leads  home, 
Bless  me  through  life's  brief  day. 

Bless  mo  when  death  shall  come. 
And  let  me  swiftly  go, 
Or  linger  here  below, 

Whate'er  Thy  will  may  be, 
Young  with  thy  angels  bright. 
Old  with  tbv  saints  in  light, 

Praise  sbaW  I  sing  to  thee. 


as 

te 
th 

5r, 
as 
il- 


MOONBEAM  AND  TOPSY. 


FOR  VfOKY  LITTLK   ONKS. 


They  were  a  pair  of  pretty  little  sister  kittens 
with  golden  backs  and   tails,    and   white    faces, 
breasts    and    paws.     Moonbeam    was    so   called 
because   she   had   an   odd  light   mark  down  the 
middle  of  her  back  that  people  saivl  looked   like 
a  moonbeam,    while   Topsy    was    named  after  a 
funny  little  maiden  of  whom  we  have  all   heard, 
though  I  really  don't  think  she  was  as  mischiev- 
ous as  her  pussy  namesake,      liittle    Milly   May, 
•.vho  owned  the  kittens,  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  naughty  Topsy  sometimes,  ami  though  Mrs. 
May   was   one   oi    those  sweet  mothers  who  love 
and  understand   pussies   she   used  often   to  say 
that  Topsy  would  have  to  be  given  away.    Milly 
used  to  talk  to  her  very  gravely.     'IMie  day   that 
Topsy   ran    away   with    grandmother's  knitting, 
and  after  pulling  out  the  needles,  wove  it  into  a 
spider's  web  up  in  the  big  nuiple.  where  she  was 
found  chewing  all  that  was  left   of    the    pretty 
white  sock,  Ted,  Milly 's  big  brother,  heard  her 

126 


120 


Jleadoirhursc  Children. 


H 

I 

llivr 


sa3%  "When  I  am  dead  and  you  has  no  little 
mother,  Topsy,  you'll  wish  you  hadn't  been  so 
bad!"  But  Topsy  only  hit  Milly's  lip  softly 
with  her  little  white  paw,  and  then  took  a  sud- 
den leap  into  Aunt  Nan's  basket  of  embroidery 
silks,  tipping  it  and  herself  over  on  the  floor. 
One  of  her  favorite  tricks  was  to  pull  the  pins 
out  of  pin-cushions.  She  learned  to  do  this  when 
very  small,  drawing  the  pins  out  with  her  teeth 
and  dropping  them  on  the  floor,  and  when  the 
last  one  was  out  would  purr  with  delight. 

Moonbeam  was  a  gentle,  quiet  little  kitten, 
and  when  Topsy  had  been  very  bad  used  really 
to  look  ashamed  of  her  sister.  She  was  fond  of 
rubbing  herself  up  against  her  little  mistress, 
or  cuddling  beside  her  while  she  swung  in  the 
hammock.  She  generally  sat  upon  a  chair  be- 
tide Milly  at  meals  and  would  purr  softly  and 
pat  her  arm  now  and  then  if  she  wanted  a  taste 
of  anything.  Topsy  was  not  allowed  in  the  din- 
ing-room at  meal  times  at  all  since  one  dreadful 
occasion,  when  she  sprang  from  the  sofa  on  to 
the  back  of  old  Mr.  Clark,  who  was  dining  with 
the  Mays,  dragged  his  wi;^^  to  the  floor  with  her 
and  startled  him  so  much  that  he  dropped  his 
cup  of  hot  coffee.  Now  Mr.  (Mark  was  the 
minister,  and  even  Milly  felt  that  such  an  irrev- 
i>rent  kitten  must  l)e  kept  out  of  the  way  till 
she    learned    better   manners.     It  happened  one 


Moonbeam  and  Topsy. 


127 


d«y  that  Mrs.  May  was  expecting  some  friends 
to  spend  the  evening  with  her,  and  all  that 
morning  she  and  old  Kezia,  the  cook,  had  been 
busy  making  good  things,  and  when  they  were 
made  and  put  away  in  the  pantry,  it  was  ({uite  a 
treat  to  see  them  ;  at  least,  soMilly  thought,  who 
trotted  in  after  her  mother.  She  was  very  happy, 
for  two  of  her  own  little  friends  were  coming 
early  in  the  afternoon  and  they  were  to  have 
their  tea  under  the  big  maple  in  the  yard.  The 
little  friends  arrived  in  good  time,  and  after  the 
dolls  who  were  to  come  to  the  party  had  all  been 
dressed,  Milly  asked  her  mother  if  she  might 
get  the  willow  tea-set  out  of  the  pantry  and 
set  her  table  herself;  and  as  she  was  a  careful 
little  girl  Mrs.  Ma^  consented.  So  Milly,  Grace 
and  Ada  went  down  together,  but  had  only  been 
gone  about  five  minutes  when  Mrs.  May  heard  a 
crash,  followed  by  queer  sounds  of  scratching 
and  screaming.  She  got  up  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  when  suddenly  Topsy  flew  into  the  room 
looking  so  funny  tiiat  though  Mrs.  May 
was  frightened  she  could  not  help  hiughing. 
For  poor  Topsy  was  covered  v.ith  cream  and 
yolk  of  egg  and  eggshells  and  flour  and  bits  of 
sponge  cake ;  but  there  was  not  much  time  to 
look  at  her,  for  she  rushed  out  at  the  open 
window  just  as  the  three  little  girls  came  into 
the  room,  looking  nearly  as  bud  as  Topsy, 


128 


Meadowhurst  Children . 


L  I' 


"What  has  happened?"  asked  Mrs.  May. 

"Oh,  mother,"  said  Milly,  "when  we  went 
into  the  pantry  we  found  Topsy  sitting  on  the 
sponge  cake,  and  I  told  her  she  wasn't  'lowed  in 
the  pantry,  and  tried  to  catch  her,  but  she  jumped 
into  the  bowl  of  whipped  cream,  and  when  she 
was  getting  out  it  upsetted  and  fell  into  the 
basket  of  eggs,  and  the  jug  of  custard  fell,  too, 
and  poor  Topsy  was  nearly  killed,  but  she 
climbed  into  the  flour  barrel  and  then  jumped 
out  and  runned  upstairs,  and  we  runned  after 
her."  Milly  stopped  to  take  breath,  and  Mrs. 
May,  after  ringing  for  the  nurse  to  take  the 
children  to  the  bathroom,  went  down  to  the 
pantry.  We  need  not  tell  what  she  saw  there, 
but  she  told  old  Kezia,  who  was  Topsy's  de- 
clared enemy,  that  as  soon  as  they  had  all  gone 
to  the  country  for  the  sijmmer  she  might  give 
her  away  just  as  soon  as  a  good  home  could  be 
found. 

But  though  a  week  later  Mrs.  May,  with  Milly, 
baby  and  nurse  left  town  for  their  country  home, 
Topsy  was  not  given  away,  and  I  shall  tell  you 
why. 

Ted  and  Archie,  the  two  boys,  had  not  been 
able  to  go  with  Mrs.  May,  as  they  had  two  weeks 
more  at  school,  but  it  was  arranged  that  they 
should  go  up  each  Saturday  and  spend  that  day 
and   Sunday    with    their    mother   and   sisters. 


Moonbeam  and  Topsy. 


129 


Milly  would  have  liked  to  take  her  kitties 
with  her,  but  had  been  persuaded  that  they 
would  be  safe  in  their  town  home,  and  Ted  and 
Archie  had  found  the  cunning  little  things  great 
company.  For  they  were  both  clever  kittens, 
and  could  do  a  great  many  funny  tricks.  Ted 
had  taught  them  to  jump  through  a  hoop  and 
to  beg,  and  they  could  play  "  peep  "  and  *'  hide 
and  seek."  Moonbeam  would  also  sit  on  a  table, 
and  if  anyone  ran  past  her  catch  them  with  her 
paw,  and  this  Millie  called  *'  giving  tag."  The 
boys  knew  that  she  would  really  miss  her  pets 
dreadfully,  and  when  the  first  Saturday  came, 
Ted  said  to  Archie  on  waking  in  the  morning, 
"  Suppose  we  take  Milly's  kittens  up  to  see  her 
today." 

"Oh,  Ted,"  said  Archie,  "  Mother  would  not 
like  that;  she  said  they  must  stay  in  town," 

"But  I  don't  think  she  would  mind  having 
them  up  for  a  day  if  we  took  care  of  them," 
said  Ted.  "  It  would  make  Milly  so  happy, 
and  we  could  bring  them  right  back  to  town." 

Archie  was  soon  persuaded  and  after  break- 
fast they  got  two  baskets,  made  a  soft  bed  in 
each,  packed  the  kittens,  who  had  been  well 
fed,  carefully  in,  and  started  for  the  station, 
for  their  country  home  at  Ste.  Rose  was  reached 
by  a  two-hours'  trip  on  the  cars. 

The  pussies  behaved  vei^  well  in  their  baskets. 


180 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


Topsy  scratched  a  little  and  Moonbeam  gave  a 
gentle  mew  now  and  then,  but  that  was  all  until 
the  train  started;  but  no  sooner  did  they  feel  the 
motion  of  the  cars  and  hear  the  noise  than  the 
poor  little  kittens  became  wild  with  fear.  They 
went  into  fits,  escaped  from  their  baskets  and 
dashed  wildly  about  the  car.  Ted  and  Archie 
tried  by  wrapping  them  up  in  their  coats  to 
keep  them  from  hearing  the  noise  that  so  fright- 
ened them,  but  it  did  no  good.  The  very  life 
was  frightened  out  of  the  tender  little  creatures. 
They  had  to  die.  And  strange  to  say  it  was 
Topsy  who  went  first;  strong,  merry,  tricky  little 
Topsy.  It  was  not  long  before  she  stopped 
struggling  and  lay  panting  on  her  side.  Soon 
she  ceased  breathing  and  in  less  than  half  an 
hour  after  the  train  started  she  lay  quite  dead. 
Gentle  little  Moonbeam  fought  hard  for  her  life 
and  it  was  only  half  an  hour  before  they  reached 
Ste.  Rose  that  she  quieted  down  to  die.  And 
now  a  strange  thing  happened.  For  a  few  min- 
utes she  seemed  to  lose  her  fear  and  lay  on  the 
cushioned  seat  by  Archie,  breathing  quietly  as 
if  asleep.  Suddenly  she  opened  her  eyes  and 
tried  to  crawl  towards  him,  looking  sadly  up  as 
if  she  were  saying,  "I  want  to  live,  dear  little 
master.  Try  to  help  me.'*  Archie  bent  over 
her  and  stroked  her  softly.  She  tried  to  purr, 
put  up    her  paw    and    caught    weakly  at  his 


li 


Moonbeam  and  Topsy. 


131 


> 


jacket  in  the  old  piayful  way,  and  then  her  little 
paw  dropped  lifeless.  Little  Moonbeam  had 
'•given  itog"  for  the  last  time. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  bad  the  boys  felt. 
Archie  sobbed  aloud  when  he  thought  of  how 
grieved  his  mother  and  Milly  would  be,  and  both 
boys  felt  that  they  had  done  wrong  in  bringing 
the  kittens  without  feeling  sure  that  their  mother 
would  be  willing,  but  sorrow  could  not  bring 
the  dead  pets  to  life  again.  The  train  had  now 
reached  Ste.  Rose,  and  Ted  and  Archie,  after 
leaving  it,  carried  the  kittens  to  a  grove  of  trees 
on  property  belonging  to  Mr.  May,  and  after 
hiding  them  carefully  walked  down  to  the  house, 
where  they  were  told  that  their  mother  with 
nurse  and  the  little  sisters  had  gone  to  the 
beach  ;  so  there  they  went.  Mrs.  May  and  Milly 
were  watching  for  them,  and  wondered  to  see 
them  walking  along  so  slowly  and  sadly.  But 
when  they  came  up  and  told  their  sad  story  I 
think  everyone  cried  but  Baby.  Even  Ted  could 
hardly  keep  the  tears  out  of  his  eyes,  while 
Milly  threw  herself  on  her  face  in  the  sand  and 
would  not  be  comforted.  At  last  Mrs.  May 
said  that  after  dinner  they  should  all  go  up  to  the 
grove  and  have  a  funeral,  and  this  seemed  to 
comfort  Milly  a  little.  So  they  all  went  and  the 
boys  dug  a  grave,  and  Milly  laid  flowers  on  it, 
but  it  was  many  days  before  she  was  quite   the 


i      ' 


182 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


merry  little  girl  that  she  had  been,  and  I  do  not 
believe  that  she  will  ever  again  love  any  little 
kitten  quite  as  much  .  s  she  did  Moonbeam  and 
Topsy. 


f; 


■^M;.:: 


: ' 


;.  h 


)t 

le 
d 


Where  They  Found  The  Kittens. 


Robs  and  Rosie  were  spending  the  holidays 
with  their  grandmother  in  the  country  and 
having  so  much  fun  that  I  couhl  never  begin  to 
tell  you  all  about  it.  They  helped  to  feed  the 
chickens     and     ducks  and    calves    and     pigs. 

They  saw  the  cows  milked  and  the 
butter  made  and  Rosie  learned  to  churn.  They 
helped  to  toss  the  new  hay  and  rode  home  on 
the  hay  cart:  they  went  fishing  with  Uncle  Nat 
and  berrying"  with  Aunt  Nelly ;  they  hunted  for 
eggs  and  climbed  trees  and  sailed  boats  in  the 
duck  pond  and  built  dams  in  the  stream  and 
were  just  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  Rosie 
heard  Aunt  Nelly  say  that  on6  day,  and  she  said 
to  Ross  :  "  What  Ooes  it  mean,  Ross?  " 

"  What  does  wha*:  mean?  "  said  Ross. 

'*  Why,  being  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long," 
said  Rosie. 

"Oh,  that  means,"  said   Ross,    "that   every 
minute  that  the  day  lasts  we  are  having  fun,  and 

133 


134 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


I 


t  h 


?  , 


M- 


it  would  be  quite  true  if  we  did  not  have  to  say 
lessons  every  morning." 

''Oh,  Ross,"  said  Rosie,  "  I  think  lessons  are 
fun,  too.  We  only  have  to  do  them  for  one 
hour,  and  how  much  nicer  to  say  them  to  Aunt 
Nelly  on  the  cool  veranda  than  if  we  were  in 
the  hot  schoolroom  in  town." 

"Yes,  it  is  nicer,"  said  Ross  thoughtfully; 
"  but  no  lessons  can  be  fun  and  I  am  glad  they 
are  over  for  to-da3^  Come  with  me,  Rosie,  and 
see  Lady  Mary." 

Lady  Mary  was  a  beautiful  white  hen  with  a 
topknot  of  snowy  feathers  that  Ross  said  a 
queen  might  be  proud  of.  Grandmother  had 
given  her  to  Ross  for  his  own  pet  the  very  day 
he  came,  and  if  she  hatched  chickens  he  was  to 
be  allowed  to  take  two  home.  Rosie  had  been 
given  a  pet,  too,  the  family  cat,  a  lovely  maltese 
with  pale  green  eyes  and  a  fur  as  glossy  and 
shining  as  silk.  She  was  not  only  a  beautiful 
cat,  but  a  very  useful  one,  and  kept  grandmoth- 
er's house  completely  clear  of  rats  and  mice.  In- 
deed, Diana,  for  that  was  her  name,  was  too 
fond  of  hunting.  Aunt  Nelly  had  with  great 
trouble  taught  her  not  to  kill  birds,  but  she 
spent  nearly  all  her  time  hunting  mice  in  the 
barn.  "She  won't  play  with  me  at  all,"  com- 
plained Rosie  one  day,  "or  even  let  me  cuddle 
her  up." 


Where  They  Found  the  Kittens. 


135 


"Nevermind,  dear,"  said  Aunt  Nelly,  "she 
will  get  kittens  some  day  and  they  will  play  as 
much  as  you  like,  and  you  shall  take  one  home." 

"But  I  don't  think  she  knows  how  to  take 
care  of  kittens.  She  only  knows  how  to  hunt," 
said  Rosie.  "And  perhaps  she  will  run  away 
and  leave  them." 

"Oh,  no,"  laughed  Aunt  Nelly.  "Diana  will 
be  willing  then  to  stay  in  her  box  all  day 
long." 

Two  or  three  mornings  after  this,  when  Ross 
and  Rosie  came  down  to  breakfast,  Aunt  Nelly 
took  them  into  the  kitchen,  and  there  in  her 
box  in  a  snug,  warm  corner  lay  Diana,  purring 
with  happiness  as  she  clapped  her  paws  round 
three  sweet  little  kittens,  t^.o  pure  white  and 
one  like  herself.  "Oh!  the  darlings!"  said 
Rosie.  * 'Ain't  they  sweet,  Ross,  and  how  hap- 
py dear  Diana  is.  She  is  just  as  happy  as  the 
day  is  long,  isn't  she  Aunt  Nelly?" 

"Yes,"  laughed  Aunt  Nelly,  for  Rosie's  fun- 
ny way  of  picking  up  her  elder's  speeches 
amused  them  all,  "but  you  and  Ross  must  come 
to  breakfast,  for  the  bell  has  rung  twice." 

So  they  went  in  to  the  good  breakfast  ready  for 
them  every  morning  at  grandmother's.  A  little 
blue  mug  filled  with  rich  milk  stood  at  each 
place  and  they  each  had  a  big  brown  egg,  a 
saucer  of  white  raspberries  and  as  many  slices 


186 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


I: 


.  j 

•i 

II 

1 ' 

of  bread  and  butter  as  they  could  eat.  After 
breakfast  Rosie  wanted  to  rush  back  to  the 
kittens,  but  Ross  asked  her  to  come  and  gather 
the  eggs  with  him,  and  before  they  had  visited 
all  the  nests  and  stayed  awh.ie  to  pet  Lady  Mary, 
who  was  now  sitting  on  s'x  of  her  o'vn  white 
eggs,  the  lesson  bell  rang, and  the  children  went 
at  once  to  the  veranda,  where  Aunt  Nelly  was 
waiting  for  them.  She  was  really  a  delightful 
teacher,  and  the  hour  which  their  mother  wished 
them  to  study  each  day  to  make  up  for  time  lost 
during  the  winter  passed  ^o  pleasantly  that  even 
Ross  thought  it  fun.  As  Boon  as  they  were  re- 
leased the  children  ran  back  to  the  kittens — at 
least  they  meant  to — but  when  they  reached  the 
box  no  kittens  were  there  nor  any  cat.  Rosie 
burst  into  such  loud  crying  that  Aunt  Nelly 
came  in  a  hurry  and  soothec'  h  r  by  saying  that 
mother  cats,  particularly  if  their  kittens  were 
handled  too  much,  often  )iid  their . 

"We  shall  be  sure  to  find  fchem,  Rc^ie,"  said 
she;  but  though  she  and  Ross  and  Kosie,  and 
Uncle  Nat  and  even  Bridget,  the  cook,  looked 
for  them,  no  trace  of  the  kittens  had  been  found 
by  dinner  time. 

After  dinner  even  grandmother  helped  to  look 
for  them;  cupboards,  closets,  drawers,  band- 
boxes and  all  such  places  as  mother  pussies 
love  were  searched,  but  searched  in  vain. 


Where  They  Found  the  Kittens. 


137 


k 


"We  must  wait  till  evening,"  said  Aunt  Nelly, 
"Diana  will  be  sure  to  come  to  be  fed  and  then 
we  can  follow  her  and  find  where  she  has  put 
the  kittens." 

About  6  o'clock  Diana  did  come  and  eagerly 
lapped  up  her  saucer  of  milk.  Rosie  sat  tremb- 
ling with  impatience  and  would  have  flown  after 
the  cat  the  minute  she  left  her  saucer  had  not 
Aunt  Nelly  held  her  back. 

"Don't  frighten  her,  Rosie,"  she  said,  "we 
must  watch  her  quietly." 

And  so  they  did  and  saw  her  trotting  down  to 
the  barn.  They  cautiously  followed,  entered  on 
tip- toe  and  beheld  Diana  calmly  crouching  down 
by  a  mouse  hole  looking  as  unconcerned  as  if 
she  had  never  had  a  kitten  in  her  life.  They 
waited  till  they  were  tired,  but  she  would  not 
stir  and  Aunt  Nelly  had  to  return  to  the  house 
with  the  children,  feeling  herself  completely 
puzzled.  Rosie  could  not  be  comforted.  "I 
am  not  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long  now.  Aunt 
Nelly,"  she  sobbed;  "I  am  only  about  an  hour 
happy." 

"  Perhaps  Diana  put  her  kittens  down  the 
mouse  hole  or  caught  them  by  mistake  for  mice," 
said  Ross,  at  which  awful  suggestions  Rosie's 
tears  flowed  afresh. 

The  next  morning  Bridget  reported  that  Diana 
had    come    for  her  breakfast    and  returned  to 


188 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


% 


the  barn,  where  the  children,  when  break- 
fast wa8  over,  again  found  her  watching 
for  mice.  "You  hateful,  mean,  old  thing,  ' 
burst  out  Rosie,  "don't  you  know  it  is  very 
wicked  not  to  take  care  of  your  babies?  Where 
are  your  white  babies  and  your  gray  baby? 
What  would  Ross  and  I  have  done  if  our  moth- 
er had  hidden  us  in  some  horrid  place  and  gone 
mouse  hunting?  Don't  you  know  that  your 
babies  will  die?"  and  here  Rosie's  eyes  filled 
again  and  to  cheer  her  up  Ross  hastened  her  off 
to  see  Lady  Mary. 

There  was  nothing  wrong  about  that  queenly 
bird.  She  sat  on  her  nest  looking  as  stately  as 
if  she  were  a  queen  and  empress  both.  "How 
lovely  she  is,"  said  Ross.  "And  how  kind,"  said 
Rosie;  "I  believe  that  you  would  take  care  of 
three  sweet  kittens  if  you  had  them."  And  she 
stooped  and  gently  patted  Lady  Mary's  back. 
As  she  did  so  the  hen  moved  slightly  and  Rosie 
started  violently  and  turned  quite  pale, 

"What  is  it?"  said  Ross. 

"Oh! Ross,  Ross,  listen,"  said  Rosie  excitedly, 
"I  heard  such  a  queer  little  squeaking  noise 
when  I  put  my  head  down." 

"It  must  be  a  chicken,"  said  Ross. 

"No,  no,"  said  Rosie.  "Listen;  oh!  Ross! 
there  it  is  again;  don't  you  hear?  I  do  believe 
it  is  a  kitten." 


. 


Where  They  Found  the  Kit  fens. 


189 


Ross  gently  put  his  hand  beneath  Lady  Mary's 
wing  and  drew  out  in  succession  a  snow-white, 
a  maltese  and  another  white  kitten. 

They  were  all  mewing  now  and  loud  enough, 
and  Diana  came  flying  into  the  stable,  gathered 
them  up  to  her  warm  breast  and  cuddled  and 
purred  to  them  till  even  Rosie  was  contented. 
But  when  the  little  creatures  had  dropped  to 
sleep  she  gently  poked  them  under  Lady  Mary's 
wings  and  returned  to  her  beloved  barn;  nor 
could  anything  induce  her  to  take  charge  of  the 
kittens  again.  She  came  regulirly  to  feed 
them,  and  it  was  an  odd  sight  to  see  her 
stretched  out  beside  Lady  Mary  and  sometimes 
twining  her  paw  around  that  stately  fowl's  neck; 
and  the  funny  thing  was  that  Lady  Mary  seemed 
perfectly  willing  to  be  the  kittens'  nurse.  Slie 
spread  her  soft,  white  wings  over  them  as  if 
they  had  been  chickens,  and  when  they  were 
old  enough  to  run  about  led  them  out  into  the 
yard  just  as  she  might  have  done  a  brood  of  her 
own.  At  first  they  would  follow  her,  and  many 
people  came  from  a  distance  to  see  the  pretty 
hen  strutting  about  with  her  odd  children. 
When  they  began  to  run  away  from  her  and 
climb  trettj  she  was  very  much  distressed  and 
would  cluck  mournfully.  Diana  fed  them  us 
long  as  they  needed  her,  but  beyond  that  took 
no    notice    of    them.     They  grew  uj),  however, 


1 


140 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


into  splendid  kittens  and  did  great  credit  to 
Lady  Mary. 

But  I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  what  Rosie 
said  to  Aunt  Nelly  the  day  the  kittens  were 
found. 

"  How  happy  are  you  no vr,  Rosie?  "  Aunt 
Nelly  had  said,  and  Rosie  replied: 

"Oh,  Aunt  Nelly!  I'm  happier  than  the  day 
is  long.  My  happy  will  have  to  run  over  into 
the  night." 


, 


;.  I 


si 


Sinking  in  the  Drift. 


A  Snow  Story. 


Marian  and  Flossie  lived  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  school,  but  as  the  road  was  a  safe 
and  quiet  one,  and  there  was  only  one  corner  to 
turn,  mother  was  not  afraid  to  let  them  go  alone. 
She  told  them  always  to  keep  together,  and 
Marian,  who  was  eight  years  old  and  a  quiet, 
careful  little  girl,  was  very  proud  of  being 
trusted  to  take  care  of  Flossie,  who  was  only  six. 

The  walk  to  school  was  very  pleasant  at  any 
time,  but  the  little  girls  liked  it  best  in  winter. 
The  trees  used  to  look  so  lovely.  Sometimes 
they  wore  feathers,  Flossie  said,  and  sometimes 
diamonds.  Then  the  snow  made  the  roads  so 
high  that  the  children  could  see  a  great  deal 
further  across  the  country  than  in  summer. 
There  were  two  or  three  little  hills,  too,  down 
which  they  could  slide  on  the  toboggan  they 
drew  after  them,  and  as  for  the  cold  they  were 
80  warmly  wrapped  up  that  they  did  not  mind 

that  at  all. 

One  bright  day  in  February  the  little  girls 
were  walking  home,  Marian,  as  usual,  holding 
Flossie  by  the  hand.     Flossie  was   in  a  great 

HI 


V'\ 


142 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


hurry  to  get  home,  because  she  was  bringing 
her  copy  book  to  show  mother.  It  was  the  very 
first  she  had  ever  written,  and  she  was  very 
proud  of  the  nice,  clean  pages  and  neat  letters ; 
so  she  kept  pulling  at  Marian's  hand,  but  Marian, 
who  was  not  feeling  very  well,  did  not  care  to 
hurry,  and  at  last  Flossie  broke  from  her  and 
ran  on  ahead  as  fast  as  she  could.  Marian  would 
have  run  after  her,  had  they  not  been  near  their 
corner,  just  half-way-home.  She  watched  Flos- 
sie turn  it,  and  then,  feeling  sure  she  was  safe, 
walked  slowly  on,  stopping  for  a  few  minutes 
at  the  home  of  Lucy  Scott,  who  had  been  absent 
from  school,  to  give  her  next  day's  lessons. 

Meantime,  just  as  frisky  Flossie  ran  around 
the  corner,  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  caught  her 
copy-book  out  of  her  hand,  and  whirling  it  high 
in  the  air,  landed  it  on  top  of  an  enormous  snow- 
drift at  the  side  of  the  street.  Thinking  of 
nothing  but  her  precious  book,  Flossie  ran 
lightly  up  to  the  top,  and  had  just  grasped  it 
when  the  light  crust  of  snow  broke,  and  she 
went  through,  sinking  at  once  above  her  knees. 
She  tried  to  struggle  out,  but  onl}'  sank  further. 
She  was  not  a  bit  frightened,  but  laughed  as  she 
thought  how  surprised  Marian  wuuld  be  to  see 
her  stuck  up  there,  and  what  fun  there  would  be 
pulling  her  out.  But  Marian  did  not  come,  and 
now   the   snow   reached    nearly    to   her   waist. 


^^f 


A  Snoiv  Story. 


143 


.'f 


Flossie  began  to  struggle  violently,  but,  alas! 
she  not  only  sank  deeper,  but  dislodged  some 
snow  from  the  back  of  the  drift  which  was 
higher  than  the  front,  and  now  she  was  buried 
up  to  past  her  waist. 

Marian  had  just  turned  the  corner  when  she 
heard  a  piercing  cry,  and  looking  up  to  the 
drift  she  saw  two  little  white  fur  arms,  ending 
in  green  mittens,  stretched  out  imploringly,  and 
a  white  fur  cap  over  a  tangle  of  golden  curls, 
from  which  a  frightened  tear-stained  face  looked 
out.  That  was  all  that  could  be  seen  of  Flossie. 
She  had  called  for  help,  but  no  one  had  passed, 
and  the  wind  had  carried  her  voice  away  from 
Marian.  Now  she  was  really  frightened,  and 
the  tears  would  come,  when  suddenly  her  sister 
came  in  sight.  Then  between  joy  and  terror  she 
gave  the  cry  that  Marian  heard. 

But,  alas!  Marian  could  not  help  her.  She 
tried  to  climb  the  drift,  but  being  heavier  than 
Flossie,  the  crust  broke  at  every  step  and  she 
could  not  even  get  near  her  sister.  She  saw, 
too,  with  terror,  that  quite  a  mass  of  snow  from 
the  back  was  threatening  to  fall.  She  must  run 
for  help,  and  there  was  not  a  minute  to  be  lost. 

"Why,  Flossie,  I  must  run  and  get  someone 
to  dig  you  out." 

•'Oh,  Marian,  don't  leave  me,"  sobbed  the 
little  one.     "  I'm  sinking  deeper  in  the  snow." 


144 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


^.f 


"I  must,"  said  Marian.  "But  I  shall  be 
back  soon  with  father — just  think,  Flossie, 
father !  He  calls  you  his  brave  little  girl ;  be 
brave  now;  and  oh,  darling,  you  may  call  for 
help,  but  keep  very  still.  Now  see  me  run." 
And  off  Marian  flew  like  a  bird.  Home  was  the 
nearest  house.  Could  she  reach  there  and  bring 
help  in  time?  She  dared  not  think,  but  flew  on 
till  she  reached  their  own  door,  where,  oh,  joy ! 
she  met  papa  just  coming  out.  He  had  come 
home  to  lunch  and  finding  that  his  little  girls 
had  not  arrived  was  starting  to  meet  them. 
Marian  dropped  at  h's  feet,  gasping  out :  "Oh, 
papa,  papa,  Flossie  is  sinking  in  the  big  drift. 
She  is  nearly  gone."  Mr.  Ray  carried  her  into 
the  house,  seized  the  big  wooden  shovel  which 
stood  always  ready  for  use  in  the  hall,  and  in 
less  than  two  minutes  had  reached  the  drift. 
He  had  not  come  too  soon.  Flossie's  arms  were 
now  up  in  the  air  and  she  was  holding  her  head 
back  to  keep  her  mouth  clear.  Just  as  Mr.  Ray 
touched  the  drift  the  snow  fell  from  behind  and 
Flossie  was  buried  completely.  But  in  one  min- 
ute she  was  out  and  safe  in  warm,  strong  arms, 
and  next  thing  she  was  in  the  snug  little  dining- 
room  at  home,  with  her  arms  around  mother's 
neck. 

**It   was    my   fault,"   she   sobbed.     "I   was 
naughty  to  ru«  away  from  Marian,  but  my  copy- 


A  Snow  Story. 


145 


book  was  the  bestest  in  the  school  and  Miss  Allen 
said  you  would  be  s'prised,  and  I  was  in  such  a 
hurry  to  s'prise  you;  but  now  you  will  never  see 
it,  for  while  I  was  stuck  the  wind  blew  it  away 
down  the  street,'  and  here  Flossie  sobbed 
afresh . 

"No,  no,"  said  Marian,  "  it  was  my  fault.  I 
ought  to  have  run  after  Flossie  and  not  have 
gone  into  Lucy's."  But  here  Bridget  brought 
in  some  hot  soup,  and  after  the  little  girls  had 
drunk  it  mother  put  them  snugly  to  bed,  and 
they  were  soon  asleep  in  each  other's  arms. 

And  mother  saw  the  copy-book  after  all,  for 
someone  picked  it  up  and,  finding  the  address  on 
the  cover,  sent  it  through  the  post  to  its  rightful 
owner,  and  Flossie's  neat  work  gave  great 
pleasure  to  her  parents. 

It  took  Marian  a  long  time  to  get  over  her 
fright,  and  she  was  very  glad  when  the  bright 
spring  sun  turned  the  big  drift  into  a  merry 
little  stream  which  soon  found  its  way  to  its 
home  in  the  sea. 


i 


KiN(^  Bruce  on  the  Barn. 


Marian  and  Flossie  lived  in  a  country  where 
the  snow  is  so  deep  in  winter  that  out  in  the 
country  the  fences  are  all  covered,  and  in  town 
the  roadway  often  stands  six  feet  above  the  side- 
walk, which  is  kept  shovelled  out. 

Sometimes,  after  a  big  storm,  they  could  not 
get  out  at  all  till  a  place  had  been  shovelled  for 
them,  and  their  brothers.  Will  and  Walter,  often 
had  to  put  on  their  snow-shoes  to  go  in  to 
school. 

But  you  must  not  think  that  Marian  and 
Flossie  minded  the  snow.  No,  indeed.  Except- 
ing in  the  very  worst  storms,  they  went  out 
every  day  and  played  for  hours. 

When  the  snow  was  hard  they  could  slide,  and 
when  it  was  soft  they  helped  the  boys  to  build 
snow  forts  and  men,  and  molded  snow  puddings 
and  iced  cakes. 

But  what  they  liked  best  of  all  was 
to  climb  on  the  roof  of  the  big  barn 
and  take  flying  leaps  into  the  soft  bed 
of  snow  beneath.  Mother,  watching  them 
from  the  window,  used  to  call  them  her  snow- 

146 


.**— • 


King  Bruce  on  the  Bam. 


147 


drops,  for  they  wore  dark  green  blanket  coats 
with  white  sashes  and  hoods. 

But  it  was  only  when  the  snow  was  piled  very 
high  that  they  could  do  this,  or  get  on  the  barn- 
roof  at  all ;  so  you  may  be  sure  that  Marian  and 
Flossie  were  never  sorry  when  the  big  storms 
came. 

It  happened  one  year  that  the  snow  did  not 
come  till  much  later  than  usual,  and  winter  was 
nearly  over  before  it  had  piled  high  enough 
against  the  barn  to  make  it  safe  to  try  to 
climb  up. 

At  last  a  day  came  when  mother  thought  it 
might  be  possible,  and  the  inerry  little  maids 
trotted  off  to  the  barn. 

But  the  roof  was  still  so  far  above  them  that 
even  Marian,  who  was  the  taller,  did  not  get  up 
till  she  had  tried  a  great  many  times ;  while 
poor  fat  Flossie  could  not  manage  it  at  all. 

Marian  tried  to  pull  her  up,  but  without  suc- 
cess, and  at  last  she  gave  up  and,  climbing  to 
the  top  of  the  sloping  roof,  sat  proudly  down, 
while  poor  Hossie,  powdered  with  snow  from 
head  to  foot,  and  winking  hard  to  keep  the 
tears  out  of  her  eyes,  stood  sadly  looking  up  at 
her  from  the  snow  heap. 

Just  at  this  moment  mother,  who  had  been 
watching  them,  was  called  away,  and  when  she 


148 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


bis      !        < 


1i 

i 

1  i 

1 

i. 

■   '.      ■■■  > 

y 

came  back  to  the  window  five  minutes  later  both 
the  little  girls  were  on  the  roof. 

•'How  did  you  get  up  at  last?"  she  said  to 
Flossie  when,  tired  of  romping,  the  little  girls 
finally  came  in. 

**0h,"  said  Flossie,  "I  tried  and  tried  and  tried 
just  like  King  Bruce  of  Scotland,  but  I  couldn't 
get  up,  and  then  I  thought  I  would  not  give  it 
up,  but  Just  try  once  more. 

''So  I  looked  up  at  Marian,  and  said,  'The 
spider  up  there  defied  despair,  she  conquered, 
and  why  should  not  I?'  and  I  gave  my  very 
best  jump  and  the  next  minute  I  was  on  the 
barn,  and  mother,  I  am  so  glad  that  you  taught 
me  about  King  Bruce." 


- 


A  Very  Kind  Cat. 


It  was  a  lovely  morning  in  the  end  of  May,  and 
as  little  Molly  Gray  tripped  gaily  along  the  broad 
shady  road  leading  to  her  friend  Ailsie  Dean's 
house,  she  thought  that  surely  she  must  be  the 
happiest  little  girl  in  the  world.  For  this  was 
Ailsie's  birthday  and  they  were  to  have  more 
treats  than  could  be  counted  on  the  fingers  of 
one  small  fat  hand.  She  was  going  now  to  call 
for  Ailsie  and  they  had  leave  to  go  together  into 
the  fresh  green  fields  and  fill  their  baskets  with 
violets ;  for  the  little  girl  who  was  born  in  the 
violet  month  liked  tohave  a  bunch  of  her  favor- 
ite flowers  to  give  each  friend  bidden  to  her 
birthday  party,  and  a  garland  to  hang  around 
the  neck  of  MufF,  her  dear  tiny  terrier.  And 
Molly  was  to  stay  and  help  make  the  bouquets 
and  the  garlands,  and  when  she  returned  home 
she  was  going  down  town  to  buy  Ailsie  a  pres- 
ent. Then  in  the  afternoon  she  and  Ailsie  and 
four  other  little  friends   were  to   have   a  long 

448 


m 


150 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


drive  into  the  country,  and  after  that  they  were 
to  return  to  Mrs.  Dean's  for  a  merry  tea  and 
games  and  all  sorts  of  fun.  Thinking  of  a'l  this 
she  reached  Ailsie's  house  and  was  surprised 
not  to  see  her  waiting  at  the  gate.  Molly  blew 
her  sai'or  whistle  once  or  twice,  and  soon  a  lit- 
tle figure  was  seen  coming  down  the  garden 
walk.  But  what  was  the  matter  with  Ailsie? 
She  walked  slowly  and  sadly  and  her  pretty 
blue  eyes  were  all  red  and  swollen  with  crying. 
"Why  Ailsie,"  said  Molly,  "what  is  the  matter? 
Has  anything  dreadful  happened?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Ailsie,  "something  terrible; 
my  dear  Muff,  my  darling  little  doggie  is  dead. 
He  is  dead,  Molly.  He  was  run  over  last  night 
after  I  had  gone  to  bed.  At  Arst  father  thought 
he  was  not  very  much  hurt.  He  brought  him  in 
and  laid  him  on  a  cushion,  but  this  morning 
when  I  came  down  he  was  dead."  Here  Ailsie 
burst  out  crying  again  and  the  tears  were  run- 
ning down  Molly's  cheeks  too.  Hand  in  hand 
the  little  friends  went  in  to  see  the  dead  pet  and 
when  they  saw  the  little  paw^  that  had  been  so 
frisky  stretched  out  stiff  and  cold  and  the  bright 
eyes  closed  forever,  they  both  cried  harder  than 
before. 

Soon  after  Molly  walked  slowly  home.  She 
did  not  care  now  to  gather  violets  but  she  long- 
ed to   think   of   some    way   of   comforting   her 


i 


\ 


. 


A    Very  Kind  Cat. 


151 


friend.  When  she  reached  home  she  said  to  her 
mother,  ♦'  Where  is  Snowballer?"  And  her 
mother  said,  "I  think  he  must  be  in  Dolly's 
cradle  in  the  nursery."  For  Snowballer  was  a 
great,  big,  fat,  lazy  Tom-cat  who  spent  nearly 
tt.ll  his  time  sleeping  in  Molly's  best  doll's  cra- 
dle. Perhaps  you  will  wonder  how  he  got  his 
funny  name,  so  1  will  tell  you  that  he  was  called 
Snow  because  he  was  pure  white  and  Bailer  as 
a  compliment  to  Mr.  Bailer,  Mrs.  Gray's  grocer, 
who  had  given  him  to  Molly  when  he  was  so 
small  that  he  was  sent  home  in  a  paper  bag. 
Molly  had  had  him  now  for  more  than  three 
years  and  he  was  her  very  dearest  pet. 

About  half  an  hour  after  Molly's  return  home 
Mrs.  Gray  saw  her  in  the  garden  with  Snow- 
baller, or  Snobby  as  he  was  caUed  for  short. 
She  was  trying  to  make  him  walk  from  one 
flower  to  another  and  gather  them  as  he  went 
with  his  forepaws.  It  was  very  hard  work,  for 
Snobby  did  not  like  to  walk  upon  his  hind  legs. 
He  would  turn  round  and  try  to  climb  up  his 
little  mistress,  fastening  his  claws  in  her  pretty 
muslin  pinafore.  When  he  came  to  a  tree  ho 
would  try  to  spring  into  it.  Once  he  and  the 
email  girl  got  tangled  up  together  and  both  fell 
to  the  ground,  and  once  he  hissed  so  loudly  at 
poor  Molly  that  Mrs.  Gray  could  hear  him  in 
the  house. 


152 


Meadowhurst  Children. 


it 


'♦What  are  you  doing,  Molly !"  she  called. 
"Come  and  tell  me."  So  Molly  gathered  the 
flowers,  that  Snobby  had  picked,  into  her  pina- 
fore, came  into  the  house  and  stood  beside  her 
mother,  her  cheeks  rosy  with  the  efforts  she  had 
been  making  and  the  tears  still  in  her  sweet 
gray  eyes.  *'0h,  mother,"  she  said,  "Ailsie's 
doggie  is  dead,  her  dear,  dear  little  Muff.  He 
was  dead  when  I  went  there  this  morning,  and 
when  I  came  home  I  went  upstairs  to  tell  Snobby 
for  I  knew  he  would  feel  sorry ;  and  at  first  I 
couldn't  make  him  understand.  He  was  so 
sleepy  that  I  had  to  tell  him  a  great  many  times. 
I  said  'Oh,  Snobby,  dear  little  Muff  is  dead. 
Do  you  hear  me  Snobby?  He  is  dead,  dead.  He 
will  never  come  and  '^.ance  arouiid  you  and  bark 
little  playful  barks  at  you  any  more !  And  at 
last  Snobby  understood  and  I  know  he  was 
dreadfully  sorry  for  he  began  to  purr." 

*•  But  Molly,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  "pussies  purr 
when  they  are  pleased.  How  do  you  know  that 
Snobby  was  sorry?" 

"Oh,  by  the  way  he  purred,  dear  mother," 
said  Molly,  "it  wasn't  a  pleased  happy  purr, 
but  a  sad,  slow,  solemn  one.  I  put  my  head 
down  to  him  and  it  sounded  like  'poor,  poor, 
poor,'  and  then  I  knew  he  was  trying  to  say, 
'poor  Muff,'  so  I  said  to  him  :  '  Snobby,  would 
you  like  to  gather   some   flowers   to  lay   upon 


A   Very  Kind  Cat. 


158 


Muff's  grave?'  And  he  stood  right  up  in  the 
cradle  and  was  going  to  say  'yes'  only  he  had  to 
yawn  just  then,  so  I  took  him  into  the  garden 
and  you  can't  think  what  trouble  he  took  to 
pick  the  flowers  all  right,  and  dear  mother, 
don't  you  think  it  will  comfort  Ailsie  a  little  to 
know  that  dear  Snobby  was  so  sorry  and  so 
kind?" 

"I  think  it  will  comfort  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Gray,  "to  know  that  some  one  was  so  s'.'ry  and 
so  kind,"  but  little  Molly  never  thought  for  a 
minute  that  mother  could  mean  her. 


